


Project Compass

by DistantStorm



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Chiss Ascendancy (Star Wars), Ezra Bridger and Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo's Space Adventures, Grysk (Star Wars), M/M, Navigator Culture, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 132,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23487166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: Thrawn has brought young Jedi Ezra Bridger back to the Chiss Ascendancy following the demise of the 7th Fleet over Lothal. Shaken by his failure, the disgraced former Grand Admiral finds himself thrust into a role that brings everything full circle. Now the attaché to the only Human Skywalker in the Ascendancy, Thrawn has to adapt to his new role while trying to figure out why his new commanding officer, former aide-de-camp, and long time friend Eli Vanto will not speak to him.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 643
Kudos: 359





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 8/30/2020

The courtyard was beautiful in an ethereal way. The plants were almost like ice, crystalline and fragile-seeming. Ezra had been instructed not to touch them, so he refrained. It was tempting, though.

The cross breeze caught him by surprise and he shivered. The interior of the building was supposedly warm by Chiss standards, or so he'd been told. To Ezra, it even seemed comfortable now, compared to the outside.

Not far from him, inspecting the scrolling face of a frost-colored tree, stood Thrawn. "They are treating you well?" He asked without turning to face the younger Jedi.

"Well enough," Ezra shrugged.

He'd spent the last five days being interrogated by miscellaneous Chiss officers. They were polite, though he could tell they weren't entirely thrilled about a human in their midst. They were exceedingly interested in the extent of his abilities as a Jedi, though, and each person who had spoken to him had been accompanied by a young girl - a different one, each time - who Ezra could feel within the living Force.

As for Thrawn, he had acted as Ezra's translator upon their initial arrival. Not long after, they'd been separated. Apparently Thrawn was to be debriefed while he was subjected to questioning. The Chiss, to their credit, hadn't treated Ezra like a prisoner so far, but he wasn't stupid. This was the Unknown Regions. He had no idea where he was or where to go even if he did manage to get his hands on a ship. Hyperspace lanes didn't exist out here. He couldn't just plug in coordinates for Lothal and go home...

Besides: Thrawn had asked him to consider helping the Chiss. Thrawn, Ezra marveled, who never asked his enemies for anything. They hadn't killed each other, despite everything leading to their arrival… wherever this was, exactly. In fact, Ezra got the feeling that Thrawn just might respect him. At least, maybe a little. And even if he didn't, it didn't mean every Chiss had to answer for his transgressions. So, Ezra had agreed to hear them out. He hadn't agreed to the lengthy interrogation, but supposed he should have expected as much.

"The language barrier has not been too difficult to navigate?"

"I mean, they probably would do better with you as a translator," He supposed. For sake of keeping things civil, Ezra let his snide remark about how he wouldn't entirely trust Thrawn to translate for him anyway dissipate on his tongue. "I think they understood most of what I said."

Thrawn nodded, but said nothing else.

The wind picked up again. He pulled his jacket - made of an unknown, thin black material that seemed sturdy but didn't do much against the cold - tighter around himself.

"How do you people - er, the Chiss," Ezra corrected, he _was_ trying to be polite, "Deal with this?" He asked, doing his best not to tremble. "It's freezing out here."

There was no sound but the wind for a while. It figured that Thrawn would stop answering once it suited him, but then again, he didn't have to. Someone else did.

"Didn't do a very good job of warnin' me about it either," They said. Their Basic was accentuated, but not like the Chiss. It sounded familiar. The tone was inviting, as if the speaker were smiling as he elaborated, "The cold."

Ezra didn't turn around just yet. He reached out with the Force, trying to anticipate if this was some kind of test. He flinched in surprise, suddenly realizing that the man behind him wasn't Chiss at all! He wasn't even Force sensitive. Ezra couldn't believe it, having to whirl around to see it with his own two eyes.

"You're… human?!"

The man laughed. It was warm. It reminded Ezra of sunshine. "I am," He said, and the Wild Space twang seemed so much more pronounced now that Ezra had a face to match against the sound.

Ezra inspected the man who stood across the small courtyard in one of the arching entryways. The man was older than him. His hair was the color of Lothalian sand, dark brown with the faintest glint of lighter pieces, blonde and tan. There might have been some hints of gray in there, but not in any real pattern. His eyes crinkled at the outer corners, just a little. Based on that, he presumed the man to be close to twice his own age, somewhere between late thirties to mid forties.

More than that, he felt something shift beside him in the Force. The man didn't even look at Thrawn, though, so the strange lurch, like a dissonant chord plucked on a harp, made little sense. Nothing had happened. Thrawn hadn’t so much as moved, and the newcomer’s gaze still rested intently on Ezra. "If you can believe it, it's almost the end of spring.” Apologetically, he continued, “Though, it's not much warmer here in the summer."

The young Jedi resisted pulling a face, instead looking to Thrawn. Thrawn, who was now staring at the older human so intensely that Ezra thought for a moment he might be in shock. Still no eye contact though, the guy seemed content to ignore him. Snidely, Ezra felt a perverse pleasure at that. The man had an easy confidence about him from his bright brown eyes and a comfortable posture in his all black uniform. He looked at home here, though this - much less anywhere even close to here - could hardly be the man’s homeworld.

"So are you the next one to question me?" Ezra asked. Thrawn finally peeled his stare from the other man to regard him with no shortage of unimpressed and well contained distaste. Whatever uneasy feeling - Ezra couldn’t believe that it was the Force reacting to Thrawn, the man was always stone faced and in control even when his life was in jeopardy - had passed.

"No, that won't be necessary. I was asked to walk you both back to the meeting room. I believe they've decided what to do with you."

-/

The panel was made up of a well rounded group. Military officers, a syndic from one of the more prominent ruling families, even someone who appeared to be a clinician of some sort. At the center sat Admiral Ar'alani, her lips pressed thin and her expression somber as she prepared to deliver the assembled council’s ruling.

For Thrawn and Ezra, it could mean anything. Thrawn did not expect bad news, for he had not gotten the sense that they were particularly angry. Wary, perhaps. The door remained open a moment longer than necessary, making him wonder if Vanto's lingering would break the silence, his commanding officer issuing a sharp reprimand.

It did not. Small, near silent footsteps became audible as a young girl he believed he recognized - a Navigator, Thrawn suspected by her age and uniform - stepped in and moved to stand beside Ezra Bridger, seated to his left. The door closed behind them and there was no further sound to indicate that Vanto remained behind them, permitted to listen. He must have slipped out as the solemn young woman entered.

The seat beside Ar'alani - to her left and his right - remained empty, yet the navigator did not move from her location next to Ezra.

“I will translate for you, Ezra Bridger,” The girl said in softly accented but obviously fluent Basic. Thrawn remained unmoving, but his mind rushed to consider the possibilities that arose just from the girl’s statement.

Ezra’s shoulders rose sharply and he turned his eyes to the young Chiss. “You? But during the-”

Ar’alani called them to order, interrupting the young Jedi with the raise of her hand, palm out. “We do not… lay our cards out all at once,” She also spoke in Basic, though it was far more accented. She looked over Thrawn’s head at the door for a moment with purpose. Switching to Cheunh, her voice instantly became more refined, elegant and sharp with the expectation of being listened to. Ezra sneaked a look at Thrawn as she spoke. He was coiled tightly in anticipation, very obviously preparing to realign whatever his plans were with what the panel had decided.

“This panel has come to a decision regarding what to do with you, Mitth’raw’nuruodo, as well as the Human Skywalker, Ezra Bridger.” The Navigator spoke softly to Ezra in Basic, her voice a gentle chime, almost an echo. Thrawn could only make out his posture from the corner of his eye, but the young Human was rigid and at attention. Despite what his translator said to him, his eyes returned to and remained trained on the Chiss Admiral as she spoke. “It was not an easy deliberation. Your actions under the employ of the Galactic Empire are…” She trailed off. “Concerning.”

Thrawn did not interrupt, but the question burned in his eyes.

The Chiss woman narrowed her bright red gaze upon him further. “We recognize that it is not easy to navigate serving both sides,” She said, with some degree of consideration. “There are expectations that must be met. However,” Her eyes cut to Ezra. He did not shy from it, continuing to meet her head on. “You ordered an assault on civilians, not to mention what your Emperor requested for you to do to the sky-walker...” She looked up toward the door again. Ezra followed her gaze, confusion written into his face, but whatever he saw did not draw a reaction. “It is one of our highest crimes. For all that you have questioned in your service to the Empire, all that you have undermined in what you’ve sworn was your dedication to the greater good,” She frowned. “That you would be capable of this-”

“You take him at his word?”

Ezra’s face was blank, and he did not argue. Perhaps it was because of the young woman speaking softly into his ear in Basic, but perhaps it was due to him being aware of a detail Thrawn does not.

“I did not need his word,” Ar’alani admitted. “You have spoken for yourself. Any incrimination is your own.”

“I have spoken nothing but the truth.”

“And so has the Sky-walker.” She leaned forward ever so slightly, addressing Thrawn directly. “What do you think of your actions, Mitth’raw’nuruodo? Do you believe them to bring honor to the Ascendancy?”

He refrained from speaking, even as the rest of the room waited for him to answer.

Ar’alani seemed to look through him, both appraising and cool. “You are not a fool. There could have been another way.”

“Not to stop the alternative project being developed by the Empire.”

“Your mission,” Ar’alani snapped, “Was not to save the Galactic Empire from its Emperor’s wiles, just as it was not to act as an accomplice to their utter destruction of the remaining Jedi. Your mission was to determine if the Galactic Empire was strong enough to be our allies in the wars to come.”

“It is not,” Thrawn said.

“We are aware,” She replied, almost hostile. “And so remains what to do with you.” She steepled her fingers in front of her, elbows on the dark table. “Do you have an opinion of that?”

“I am a warrior,” Thrawn answered. “First and foremost, as I had hoped to have demonstrated,” It was as much of a defense as he allowed himself, “I serve the Ascendency above all else. My service to the Galactic Empire was meant to help cultivate meaningful relations in the future with a secure government. I carried out the orders I was assigned to that end.”

“The Emperor did not ask you to fire on the innocent beings of Lothal.”

“The Emperor implored me to do whatever it took, as I have said.” His words remained measured and careful, even weight distributed throughout.

The Navigator’s puzzlement stole over her face halfway through her words. “The Emperor-” She looked to the door behind both men. "Tacahn?”

“'Implored,'” Came the reply in a steely Wild Space lilt.

Thrawn flinched microscopically. Patient eyes were drawn to him like predators scenting blood. Except for Ezra, whose facial features shifted from surprise to very obvious concern, the disgraced former Grand Admiral was met with no sympathy.

“Ivant,” Ar’alani motioned to the still vacant chair beside her as if bored. “If you would.”

His footsteps were even and militaristic. His shoulders rolled fluidly as he did, back and down, posture strong and unyielding. He did not look infuriated or angry, there was no facial heat, no obvious tells. He was completely impassive, utterly blank, and that, to Thrawn, was arguably more damning than the complete opposite.

To the older of the humans present, the Admiral asked, “Would you have obeyed him if he gave you this order?”

“He knows I would not,” Said Ivant, meeting Thrawn’s gaze for the first time in a very, very long while. His eyes were hard. He was entirely unreadable.

Thrawn had never seen Eli Vanto like this before.

“This council has considered many arrangements,” Ar’alani said, then paused. Thrawn’s expression remained blank, frighteningly so. It drew the attention of the Navigator until the human made an insinuating nod, reminding the girl to translate, that she’d been lost in her thoughts for too long. “No being in our midst would take orders from another who does not show his dedication to the Ascendency’s best interests, much less its core values.” She rose from her seat, looming above the former Grand Admiral, “Which is why you will not be in command. This council demands that you assist the Human Skywalker Ezra Bridger to assimilate into the Ascendency’s ranks as he has agreed to remain with us at this juncture. You will teach him our language and translate for him until he displays mastery, and correct any other deficiencies identified. You will share in his successes and in his failures, and be responsible for them as if he is an extension of your own being.”

Still, Thrawn did not react. His words betrayed no emotion. “Am I correct to assume this task will continue indefinitely?”

“A smaller committee will oversee your progress. Ezra Bridger.” Her next words are in heavily accented, but still understandable Basic, “You will report to Captain Ivant of the Warship _Compass_.” Ar’alani nodded and Ivant rose, earning Thrawn’s attention the entire way. “The Navigators have been looking forward to meeting you.”

“We believe,” Ivant said evenly, in a command tone that had the warmth behind it his eyes lacked, “That you will be of great help to our Skywalker Program.”

“You may go, Jedi Bridger” Ar’alani said, dismissing him. “There is one other item that we must address with Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

“Come,” The Navigator motioned for him to rise so Ezra did. “You will collect your things and I will take you to the shuttle.”

Ezra regarded the committee. “Shouldn’t my…” He struggled to parse the right designation, “My attaché stay with me?”

The Navigator translated, struggling similarly with the term. Ivant corrected her kindly, taking over. His reply came, once again, in Basic. “If you do not trust the Navigator, I will accompany you myself.”

“No,” Ezra said, holding up both hands. “I just-”

“You need not worry about me,” Thrawn interjected tersely and there, finally, was some of that tension.

“You’re kind of making that difficult,” Ezra murmured back, trying and failing not to be overheard. “You’re acting strangely, even for you.”

“Navigator Un’hee,” Ivant said, switching back to Cheunh and politely ignoring whatever exchange was occurring between Ezra and Thrawn. “Please retrieve Syndic Mitth’ras’safis. Give him my regards as well as my apologies that I will not be able to meet him personally.”

“Yes Captain,” The Navigator snapped to attention, quick to follow orders.

“Bridger,” Ivant cast his gaze from the Jedi to the door closing silently behind the Navigator. “With me.”

“You could ask to be dismissed, Captain.”

“You’d prefer me to be long gone before Thrass arrives,” Ivant said. No one bothered to contest it. “This is enough of a farce already.”

“So it is,” Ar’alani supposed. In any other situation, she might be amused. “Go.”

He inclined his head to her respectfully, stepping around the rest of the silent council.

“Admiral.”

She did not smile, but it was apparent that his actions met with her approval. "Captain."

Ezra looked to Thrawn one last time. “You’re sure.”

“Listen to our commanding officer,” Thrawn instructed. Whatever Ezra was apparently reading off him through the Force must have conflicted with his words, forcing the Chiss to continue. “Apparently I am to meet with my brother.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra spends some quality time with his new commanding officer and learns a little about the Chiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 8/30/2020

“Alright,” Ezra began the moment the door to the suite shut behind them, “What the kriff is going on here?”

The suite itself was minimal and compact. A small work table and charging stations for datapads and electronics, an economy sized fresher that was likely nicer than anything the young Jedi had ever had access to, and two small but separate sleeping quarters made up the space. It was clearly designed with a use similar to theirs in mind, but perhaps one that was more political in origin. Plenty of officials had aides and secretaries that lived hardly an arm’s length away.

“You’ll have to ask a more pointed question than that,” Thrawn indulged him instead of remaining silent as he wanted to. He needed time to work through this, and there wasn’t a singular painting that would help him make sense of any of it. His primary objective at this juncture was to keep Ezra relatively happy while integrating him with Chiss standards - most of which he fell short of, sloppy and unregimented from his time with the Rebellion.

“Fine.” Ezra dropped to the small sofa, sitting on the end furthest from the door. “Why are they punishing you?”

Blinking once, Thrawn asked another question in hopes of getting more of the younger man's perspective rather than admitting that he too was at a loss. “You do not agree with their judgement?”

“It’s not that. What you did was wrong,” He lingered on the word for emphasis. “But you explained it to me. I don’t have any reason to believe you were lying and I kinda have a way to fact check, even if you’re more difficult to get a read on than most. Plus,” He gestured between them, “You could have killed me plenty of times.”

“As you could also assassinate me with ease, even now.”

“Not the point.” Ezra frowned. “I’m here because you asked me to be. You’re not-” He exhaled, clearly put out. “I’m only going to say this once, so savor this moment.” He made sure to hold Thrawn’s intense gaze. “You’re the most intelligent person I’ve ever met. You see things that take me eons to figure out, even without the Force to guide you. Sure, you made mistakes, but this is a waste. You should be in command.”

“Perhaps someday, I will be again,” Thrawn allowed.

“You said that threats to your people were serious. That the Ascendancy was in extreme danger.”

“That is correct.”

“So…" He held his hands out as if Thrawn's words were something he could carry. "Why are we here together? What good can you do stuck here, babysitting me?" Ezra shrugged. "You know? Kallus always said they stuck people out of the way in 'menial tasks,'" He air-quoted, rolling his eyes. "So-"

“The Chiss are not the same as the Galactic Empire.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Ezra tilted his head, inquisitive. “They don’t seem too bad. A little stuffy, but not unnecessarily cruel. Though the child soldier thing bothers me.”

“The Force does not manifest the same.”

“I remember,” Ezra said. "And the kids here seem to like what they're doing.”

“They take their duties very seriously,” Thrawn answered, stepping easily into the segue as their conversation was not worth continuing. “As should we. The Chiss do not sleep as much as humans, as I am sure you know from our time together. You should rest while you can. We will have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Me, yes, you, no. The Captain said I can shadow him. He’ll be able to translate so I won’t need you to accompany me until the afternoon.” Ezra shrugged. “He said instructions would be sent to our datapads.”

Thrawn retrieved his own device, noticing that yes, there was a notification present - a tiny indicator light flashing with the news. He scanned it quickly. He was under no obligation to report for duty until mid-afternoon, just as Ezra had said. “And in the afternoon we will be tested.”

“Great,” Ezra deadpanned. “Just great.”

“The Ascendancy has high standards, Bridger.”

“I'm realizing that. Which is why I can’t tell if it’s pride or if they really think you messed up that you’re stuck catering to me. You’re a Grand Admiral. You outrank that Ar-whoever-”

“Admiral Ar’alani,” Thrawn corrected. “Should you make that mistake in her presence you will regret it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ezra remained casual despite it. “You’re still-”

“In the Imperial Navy, perhaps. I was a commander in the Chiss Fleet before I was sent to the Empire. I am not an admiral here.”

“Yeah, but-”

“My ranking in the Imperial hierarchy is no longer relevant.” Thrawn glared at him. “My actions, however, are.”

“Agreed,” Ezra turned the conversation back to the previous topic. “By that logic, shouldn’t the Chiss want to turn you loose on your enemies? You know how to pick apart your opponents. Captain Ivant could be my translator instead and they could use you more effectively. I mean, he seems to work pretty closely with the Jedi - I mean, with the Sky-walkers,” He corrected himself, trying to use the correct term. “He’s the one teaching the Navigators Basic. The little girl, Un’hee, I think? She told me so while we were waiting for you on the shuttle.”

There was no reply. Thrawn had turned sharply and went into the room that had his name in Chiss script projected above the biometric entry sensor without so much as a goodnight. The door closed behind him with a hydraulic hiss of finality. Ezra stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door for a long moment.

"Was it something I said?" He asked the empty room.

-/

Un'hee retrieved him ten minutes before they were to meet the Captain in his office. She had a bounce in her step that she had lacked the previous day. He learned during their walk over that she was the youngest Navigator on board at eight years old, but that she had served the Ascendancy for a little more than three years. Her dark blue black hair shows mostly black under the ship's lighting. It's threaded into a simple braid that trails halfway down her back.

Together, they knocked on Captain Ivant's door and stepped back, waiting for him to answer.

"Good morning, Eli!" The girl said in Basic that was bright and almost completely lacking in the Chiss accent.

The twang of Ivant's accent was far stronger, worn and lived in. "Good morning," He bid them both before addressing the Chiss in her native tongue.

"I am to join the other Navigators for the morning meal and our studies," She translated for Ezra's benefit. "I hope I will meet you for our evening meal?"

Ezra looked to Ivant, who nodded. "After his testing, I'm sure that can be arranged. He'll be hungry."

Un'hee smiled brightly, dipping in what almost appeared like a curtsey, but was incredibly subdued. "Until then, Ezra'Bridger."

The door closed behind her and only once she left did Ivant motion for Ezra to join him. He did not sit behind the desk, though. Instead, he went to a worktable, a more even space.

"I asked the cooks to bring our morning meal to us," He said, gesturing for Ezra to sit. "I figured you would have questions, and it would be best to address those before I take you around to see the ship and our crew." He paused. "I wasn't sure how much you knew about the Chiss, considering," He leaned back in his chair, at ease, "So I figured some informal education on what to expect might help you with what you face later today."

Ezra frowned. "Thrawn told me a bit," He replied, hesitantly defensive. Sure, there was no love lost between them, but their fragile arrangement was born of respect, for the most part. Ezra respected Thrawn's ridiculous genius as much as he was infuriated by it, and he suspected it was the same way with Thrawn and Ezra's strength with the Force.

"Did he tell you that the Chiss can see in infrared?" Ezra's lack of reaction had Ivant continuing. "It’s not full on heat-mapping but, any blush, any time you're red in the ears or your face feels hot, they know. To them, it looks like an exploitable weakness."

“Now that you say it,” Ezra supposed, confirming that Thrawn had not, “It makes sense.”

“The Chiss are proud and regimented. To be a human in their midst is not an easy thing. They’re… kind of like the Empire when it comes to aliens, but hard work and respect will sway them. Having Force abilities will help you, but you won’t have it easy proving yourself to them.”

"Is that how it was for you?"

Before the Captain could answer, the door to the office opened and a Chiss male stepped in wearing a uniform and carrying two trays smelling both sweet and earthy.

"A moment," Ivant said, switching briefly to the Cheunh to thank the chef. It was apparent the young man's mouth was watering, but instead of going for his plate, he opted to reach for the mug of red-brown tea perched benignly beside it. It didn't smell like anything, so he raised it to his lips.

It more than made up for the lack of smell with flavor, though, strong and spicy, too sharp for Ezra's senses. He sputtered and tried to set it back without being noticed, but the chef was staring. Ivant shook his head curtly, said something rueful-sounding based on context, and dismissed the chef. Once the Chiss had left, he admonished Ezra lightly. "I told you to wait."

"I thought it was the tea I was smelling," He said, coughing.

"No. It's the egg," Ivant pointed at it with his utensil. The size of it was impressive, at least half the size of his hand and green tinted. Beside it were some blue-black roots of some sort, and there was some sort of dusty pinkish bread set off to the side. The colors were wild, but food was food, and Ezra had spent enough of his childhood living on scraps to appreciate a meal regardless of his opinions on palatability. "The tea is… invigorating. You either love or hate it."

Ezra peeked over at the Captain's tray. He had a larger far mug of it than Ezra did. "You like it?"

"I do." He took a sip of it. "There is caf in the mess hall, though, so be advised that you will survive."

Exhaling, Ezra chanced a grin at his new commanding officer. Ivant didn't smile at him, exactly, but he didn't look angry either. Breakfast was an interesting affair. The food was delicious in combination, though Ezra couldn't stand what Ivant called 'ice root' (the Chiss word wasn't something he could hope to repeat) unless it was paired with the sweet egg. The bread was soft and chewy, good alone but better when he followed the Captain's lead and used it to soak up runny egg yolk.

Afterward, he quizzed Ezra in a way that almost made him forget it was a test, of sorts. What he knew of the Chiss - almost nothing, what he knew of the Ascendancy - even less, despite what insights he'd gained during his debrief, and then, lastly, of Thrawn - which was more than either of the first two subjects combined, but Ezra had the feeling he was hoping for more information than what had come up during the extensive debrief. Still, Ezra was honest, and told the Captain all he knew.

"Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo may allow you to use his core name," Captain Ivant said, "But that's not typical of how the Chiss do things with newcomers. "In fact, I would suggest you ask him how he would prefer you to address him. He likely offered his core name to you because it is easier to pronounce, instead of an extension of trust."

"I think Mitt-Mitth- ugh, _Thrawn_ trusts me. I’m here, aren’t I?"

"I do not believe that Mitth'raw'nuruodo trusts anyone. His fate may be tied to you, Ezra Bridger," Ivant looked thoughtful, "And that will lead him to cater to you. Things here have changed since he left. He has much to learn as well, and far fewer allies than when he left."

"Have you told him that?"

"I don't have to. He already knows."

Ezra considered that a moment, filed it away for further reflection. "So, wait. Core names. You're not Chiss."

"Clearly," Ivant didn't laugh, but amusement flavored his tone. "You want to know what my name is."

"Iv Ant?" Ezra frowned. It didn't sound like much of a name.

"Ivant is a core name that the Chiss gave me. I'm originally from Wild Space, if the accent didn't tell you that."

It had. "So they just took from the middle of your names?"

"They did." He tilted his head, appraising Ezra for a long moment, as if curious about what he'd do with the knowledge, or perhaps interested in Ezra's response. The question didn't seem to upset him though. "My name is Eli Vanto."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Thrawn is visited by Vah’nya and exchanges a handful of words with Eli. Ezra senses something in the Force.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Thrawn is visited by Vah'nya and exchanges a handful of words with Eli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 08/30/2020

Thrawn was not used to having time. At least, not true free time. Sure, he indulged his love of art within the scope of his duties, but rarely did he do something just because he could. In fact, in his later years with the Empire, he rarely did anything but work. Leave was unnecessary, and he found he gained more enjoyment from fulfilling the tasks required of him while mentoring others along the way.

Briefly, he was reminded of Karyn Faro. He wondered not for the first time what she had made of the news, how she had so narrowly avoided sharing the fate of the Seventh Fleet. Ezra’s actions - the Revels' last ditch effort - had still managed to kill tens of thousands of Imperial troops. The survivors had all gone different ways, trying to get a lock on civilization. Thrawn had managed to convince Ezra to stick with him, though it was likely more so that Thrawn had been open about his lack of inclination to kill the young Jedi than out of any true kinship at the start. The majority of his officers had considered murdering Ezra in his sleep and the Jedi knew it.

Now, he woke up expecting to be in his too-small room aboard the Chimaera, not in comfortable lodgings amongst his own people. Despite it, he was not sure what to do with himself. Things here had changed. There had been tension in the lines of the panel members’ faces indicative of strife. Which meant it was bad, if he of all beings was able to see it clearly reflected on the faces of Chiss politicians.

Not to mention that somehow, in the span of the not-quite two years since he’d parted with the Steadfast after their encounter with the Grysks, Eli Vanto had earned another promotion - and a large one, at that. Was he also tangled up in the politics of whatever was happening with the Aristocra? He did not act like it.

But then again, Thrawn was not entirely sure which side of him was the act, if any of it was. Originally, he’d come across as warm and nearly paternal toward Ezra during their first interaction. Human. Then, he’d become… stoic. Emotionless. Practically Chiss-like. It was impressive, Thrawn could admit, though he couldn’t help but remember the coldness of Vanto’s eyes, how he’d made direct eye contact with Thrawn and spoke evenly, no hint of anger and yet a solid weight behind his words that gave the seasoned military-man pause.

Something in Thrawn’s loins had shifted with those words. Eli Vanto was telling him, without saying explicitly so, that he had betrayed his principles. The cost of such a choice was loyalty. Loyalty between them that had been built upon time and effort, that had been forged both by time and hardship. Anger would have made Thrawn more comfortable than hard eyes and durasteel words. This was an unknown he knew nothing about how to deal with, much less if it could be dealt with at all.

And yet, Thrawn stood by his actions. At the time, over Lothal, he had done what he had to. It was a regrettable course of action, one he would have to live with for the rest of his life. But he had been trying to salvage the broken scraps of the TIE Defender Program, trying to piece back together what Arindha Pryce had broken. It had been pointless, in the end. He’d known the Defender Project would be shut down in lieu of the Emperor’s catastrophic Death Star. Still, he had wanted to try and press forward. He was single-minded, determined to make things work. If he could not salvage that project, there had to have been something he could do to get the Emperor’s favor. The Emperor hadn’t kept Thrawn in the confines of his upper echelon without a reason. Surely Thrawn could have found some way to turn Emperor Palpatine’s use of him into a mutually beneficial situation.

Now, he’d never know. The Ascendancy had intercepted his signals after roughly a year of being able to establish a stable frequency with the adequate trajectory. They’d managed a safe, covert extraction - not that there had been much to extract from, the remaining soldiers on the jungle planet would likely remain there for the rest of their natural lives by choice. Thrawn had relinquished his command of them early on, when it became clear that they were stranded in deep Wild Space and there would be no rescue. By the time he and Ezra had left, there was no one remaining to care.

His entire career with the Empire, more than a decade of his life, had been erased in an instant. To show for it, he had hardly anything at all. He’d brought the Ascendancy no honor, guaranteed them no support or security. His mission had been a failure.

And his assignment, now, meant that the Chiss felt him to be either a liability or-

A buzz of the intercom stole into his thoughts. Extracting himself from the chair he’d been sitting in, Thrawn crossed the small room to tap the console beside the door. “Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” A woman greeted him. Another Navigator, also familiar.

“Navigator Vah’nya,” He replied in kind, letting his thoughts slip into the depths of his mind. “Come in.” He keyed access for her to the suite and opened the door that linked his quarters to the shared living space. Vah’nya carried two trays with a delicate ease, setting them at the low table before selecting a side of the couch beside it for herself.

She’d grown a little more since he had last seen her, her features a little more weathered, a touch more severe. “I had suspected you would be on the Steadfast with Admiral Ar’alani,” He said, sitting a respectable distance away. He did not move toward the second tray even as she picked up a steaming mug of tea from hers.

She smiled at him. It was a touch unusual, such a delicate look on a serious Chiss. “My path has taken me down a different road,” She mused thoughtfully. “Please, eat. I waited for you in the mess hall, but in hindsight I should not have expected you there.” He listened, helping himself to some of the warm bread and rosy jam placed on his tray. “I have time before I begin instructing my younger sisters,” She said, “And I had hoped to see how you were settling in.”

“Your concern is appreciated, Navigator Vah’nya,” He paused, frowning. “You are still-”

Vah’nya nodded. “Yes, I am still a Navigator despite my old age.” Another smile, more rueful this time, and a hint of a laugh accompanied her words. He noted that her expressions were significantly less guarded on her face, though she held herself stiffly. “You are not settling in easily,” She commented. “The ozyly-esehembo, he is your assignment, I heard.”

“I suspect,” Thrawn met her gaze, “You knew that without having to be told.”

“Un’hee does not hold back much, but I suspect she would if Captain Ivant asked her to.” Thrawn did not react to the name, though Vah’nya paused on it for a second too long, testing him. “Nevertheless,” She conceded gracefully, tilting her head when he gave her nothing, “I was informed by the Captain himself. I oversee the Navigators aboard this vessel.”

“You are a part of the project the Admiral mentioned during our hearing.”

“I am,” Vah’nya acknowledged. “I will be evaluating your ward this afternoon.”

“Bridger is not my ward.”

“You are tied to him indefinitely, and he is far younger than you,” She pressed, before segueing just as Thrawn parsed a response. “Finish eating. I will take you around the ship and fill you in on the goings on. I do not think the Jedi,” Her accent curled strangely over the title, “Will remember half of what Ivant tells him.”

The _Compass_ was small. Compact, but not claustrophobic. There were several hundred staff (including the officers) and a troop of less than twenty fledgling Navigators aboard. It was a far cry from the Chimaera, an Imperial Star Destroyer, and far older than his last vessel. He considered it the equivalent to an Imperial cruiser by comparison. Despite this, the ship was outfitted with new technologies and had dedicated facilities to the training and upkeep of the young Navigators housed aboard

Vah’nya introduced him to most of the crew members with whom she suspected he would work in close quarters. She even took the liberty of contacting the bridge crew in advance to make sure the Captain was out before taking him up to introduce him to the rest of the officers.

“I am sure you realize,” She said, “That I am not acting in an official capacity. I am not sure what your role with Ezra’Bridger will entail,” She said, “But knowledge is something that makes me feel more secure now.” She rubbed her arms, voice holding something dark and hidden. Something had happened to her, Thrawn suspected. He filed it away for later consideration.

“It is a wise strategy,” Thrawn agreed. Their backs were to the bridge. Vah’nya was explaining their current patrol mission, scouting along the edges of the Unknown Regions. The chance of combat was low, and encountering space farers was similarly unlikely. It was thereby safe enough to allow newly identified Navigators to test their abilities in the field. Thrawn welcomed the return routine military procedure.

The Navigator took him back down to the eighth deck where his quarters were. She waited for Thrawn to let them in and shut the door quietly behind her. "I should not tell you this," She said softly, not moving from the doorway. "But I do not believe Eli will."

"Do not incriminate yourself," Thrawn retorted, his command voice smooth and dangerous despite its lack of recent use. He had sensed an undercurrent of something going on throughout their interaction, as though Vah'nya had been trying to decide whether or not to tell him something. "If I should not know it, do not tell me."

"It is nothing of consequence to our objective," Vah'nya responded. "I have told you next to nothing about our project," She reminded him. "This is more…"

"I did see him during the hearing," Thrawn admitted, though he did not appreciate the subtle twist of the conversation towards matters personal instead of professional. His reply was opinion, not fact. "He was unimpressed."

"There is more than meets the eye," She supposed, gaze flickering to him. "You understand?"

"I am deserving of his ire." Thrawn looked out into space through the tiny viewport. "More than anyone else's," He added, quieter.

"You feel sorry for yourself," She corrected. Her assertiveness was new and likely brought out by her current assignment. "It is not a good look on you, Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

He did not glare, but the glow of his eyes, the way he positioned himself seemed to focus on her with elevated intensity.

She produced a data card from her pocket. "This should help to close the gap in your knowledge of the Ascendancy," She said, stepping closer to drop it on the low table.

"And the project?"

Vah’nya’s eyes narrowed, and her mouth twisted in a way that suggested displeasure. "I am not at liberty to discuss it. And I would warn you not to use your Jedi to glean the information from my sisters. Captain Eli’van’to will not take kindly to such games." She warmed. "But what I wished to tell you was-"

The door to the suite opened behind Vah'nya's back. In a covert and practiced move, Thrawn slipped the data card into his pocket, head tilted in a cool greeting towards Ezra.

Except, lingering in the doorway behind the young Jedi, was a second human, dressed in a Captain's uniform. "Oh," Ezra said in Basic, rubbing the back of his head. "I-"

"Senior Navigator," Captain Ivant said. His wood-brown gaze shifted to Thrawn. "Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo." He nodded to them both, cordially. The fierce coldness Thrawn had experienced the previous day was gone, and in its place was a cool confidence. He had the airs of someone knowledgeable and approachable. Worthy of command. Ivant did not seem to linger on Thrawn for more than the greeting, though. He shared a look with Vah’nya before asking, "I trust you have settled in alright?"

It took a moment for Thrawn to realize he'd been addressed, but military procedure was deeply ingrained in him. "Yes, Captain," He said, without too obvious of a delay.

"Good," He said in Cheunh. To Vah'nya, he quirked an eyebrow, then drew her attention to the two completed meal trays. "Take them back to the mess," He instructed her. "The Commander and his charge will not have time, and it is on the way to your seminar."

"Now?"

"Yes, Vah'nya." His Cheunh was melodic, almost, with the inflection many of the Navigators and officers used, rather than the flat language used by most subordinates. Thrawn had expected nothing less, but it was impressive to hear all the same. At least, in this, he had not been mistaken. Eli Vanto had lived up to what Thrawn had seen in him. Perhaps he could find something positive in that. "I will discuss this with you later." The heat that didn't color his face in the infrared came out in his voice.

Vah'nya sighed. "Yes, Sir." She scuttled around Thrawn to collect the trays.

"Thank you," Thrawn bid her as she passed him a second time to leave. "The tour of the ship was most useful."

Vah'nya nodded, suspecting that was the least of which he was thankful for. She had served with many leaders, and none of them had ever handled idle time well. "You are welcome, Thrawn." She stopped in the doorway to regard Ezra and her superior. "Captain," She nodded.

"Senior Navigator."

The Chiss woman left, leaving Ezra to look between Ivant and Thrawn. "The data card she gifted you should have plenty of art on it," Eli said. "Ar'alani compares her love of music to it frequently."

"It is similar," Thrawn agreed, but there was an edge of caution in his voice.

He wondered if Vah'nya had been sent to collect information, rather than visiting him of her own devices. Vanto did not project any malice or anger, though his emotionless state yesterday had given a lasting and uncanny impression of it. Today, he was cool, calm, and even kind, though no less in control. Intensity lingered about him. Confidence was reflected in his movements and stance. It was an interesting catalog that Thrawn would pick apart when he had time for reflection. He knew, deep down, Eli Vanto was furious with him, to the extent that he'd forsaken his emotions to make the point. He had seen humans react that way before. It made an impression, as Thrawn so clearly experienced first hand.

Because of all of his transgressions and the wrongs he'd done, perhaps his most severe crime was he had taken this man's life and molded it in the interest of others (though to a lesser degree, for the man himself). Thrawn gave him a task that would cast him out of the Empire, and then he himself had failed. Eli Vanto, in the wake of Thrawn's own life, had always been collateral damage. And Vanto knew it, too. Eli Vanto had known from the first.

Now, Thrawn’s failure meant there was no going back.

Captain Ivant spoke into his thoughts. "I know you'll glean more from inspecting recent pop culture pieces from Csilla than from reading texts. That's why I had asked her to compile it for you in addition to the official reports."

Vanto had to know. There was no way for him not to understand the political ramifications of Thrawn’s actions. And yet, this. He’d asked her to do this? Eli was kind, he had always been the first to want to help those in need. It was what started their uncanny relationship, and had helped to forge them into an impeccable team. Now, their relationship was distanced, uncomfortable and nearly reversed, and Thrawn was left trying to figure out the human’s machinations. What was he playing at? What angle was he manipulating? What did he see? Thrawn needed to know.

It was nearly too late to inquire. "If anything stands out to you, or you want clarification, don't hesitate to ask," Vanto said in Basic. He turned to leave. "My door is always open."

"You did not want her to visit, and yet you gave her the data card to give to me," Thrawn pressed him in Cheunh. It was a test. A thinly veiled jab at Vanto’s temper, but Thrawn was shaken by the need to know how deep beneath the surface his new superior officer's anger was. Would this be enough to stoke its flames?

The human cast a glance over his shoulder, one dark eye catching Thrawn's. "I believe she was trying to prevent us from experiencing an uncomfortable moment," He replied in kind. His voice betrayed nothing.

Thrawn continued, "Surely you could have sent another."

"Sometimes it is far easier to permit a situation to unfold rather than allow it to run rampant behind one’s back." His lip twitched into a half-smile, but it was crossed with some faint emotion Thrawn couldn’t place. Sadness, perhaps? He wasn't sure, but something about the way Vanto regarded him bothered Thrawn immensely. He wasn't used to, nor did he like the sensation, and Vanto dismissed himself politely all the same. "Good afternoon, Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

With a click of the door's hydraulics, he was gone. Thrawn stared after him. Something in the way the Captain spoke, an inflection in his tone, the slightest dilation of his eyes was a clue, and yet none of the tell-tale facial heat or reddening of his ears had indicated embarrassment or rage.

It was not sadness, Thrawn realized suddenly. It was disappointment. And it stung like an open wound in a place behind Thrawn’s ribcage and oozed unpleasantly into his core. He blinked at the closed door for a moment, trying to push the feeling down and away. It lingered against his will.

"Uh," Ezra nudged at something invisible on the floor with the toe of his boot, then looked at Thrawn sheepishly. "You alright?"

"Why do you ask me that?" Thrawn did not mean to snap at the young man, but Ezra didn't seem to take offense to the hard edge in his tone.

"I can feel your sadness," Ezra said softly. "And I can pretty much never feel your feelings through the Force. It's like… like you've lost something," He rambled, "I just-"

"I am fine, Ezra."

Ezra closed his mouth. Thrawn only ever called Ezra by his given name when he really wanted the young Jedi to shut up. And usually, Ezra knew, that meant he was right about whatever he'd been saying to the Chiss. Whatever was happening in that big blue head right of his about now, Ezra assumed that Thrawn had far more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Ezra doesn’t feel like he’s made a very good impression on the Chiss. Thrawn doesn’t really make him feel better. Vah’nya and Ivant discuss Un’hee.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Ezra doesn’t feel like he’s made a very good impression on the Chiss. Thrawn doesn’t really make him feel better. Vah’nya and Ivant discuss Un’hee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 08/30/2020

Ezra found himself growing frustrated. Across the mat, a Chiss of approximately his strength and build was calm and confident. He beckoned Ezra for the fourth time, and Ezra went. The young Jedi didn't mind sparring, in fact he rather enjoyed testing his skills.

The first time, the Chiss proctor had asked him to use all of the tools at his disposal. It had been easy to win. Now, they tore him apart consecutively since he'd been asked not to use the Force.

Thrawn watched him with a cool, unreadable expression. It only ramped up his aggravation. The lieutenant - Ezra’s sparring mate - dodged his next blow, rolled, and got a leg into the Jedi’s unprotected side, making him stagger. Ezra tried to channel some of his former master’s calm. It wasn't working.

"The Force is a part of me," Ezra said aloud, breathing hard. "I'll never not use it." He huffed. “This is pointless.”

Behind Ezra's back and off the sparring mats, the lead Navigator watched with a critical eye. "Your connection to the Force," Vah'nya's Basic had a distinct accent, but was easily understood, "Can be temporarily weakened. Our enemies have developed medications to this end. They will certainly not hesitate to use them on you, whose power is different than ours. More tangible."

Beside Vah'nya, Captain Ivant stood silently. If anything, his gaze was just as intense as Thrawn's. It made him think of Thrawn's reaction earlier, the sadness and loss that was so weirdly out of place for the stoic ex-Grand Admiral, and he paid for his distraction.

His sparring partner made an unimpressed comment. Thrawn hesitated to translate it, likely due to the language used, but Vah'nya stepped in. "Lieutenant Wes'lash'andi said that _he_ is your enemy, so get out of your own karking head."

"The more accurate translation of the swear is 'kriff,'" Ivant commented to the Navigator, then barked at Ezra, "Get your head out of your ass, Bridger! Prove your worth."

Later, Ezra sat across from Thrawn in the almost entirely vacant mess hall. They had been kept late, and Ezra felt bad that he had not been able to keep his promise to meet Un'hee for the latemeal. She was gentle and sweet, and he felt a sort of kinship to her he couldn't entirely understand. Physical testing had been in the middle of two even larger bouts of knowledge testing, and his lack of ability had prolonged them. It had been followed by an academy-style exam regarding his knowledge of ships, medicine, weaponry, and history (he knew that one was his worst subject, as there was nothing related to the old Republic or Empire to be seen).

Thrawn watched him half-heartedly move some sort of vegetable around on his plate with a flat look of his own. "I don't think I met their expectations in any of it," Ezra murmured honestly to the Chiss.

"I do not believe so, either." Thrawn wasn't the kind of man to shrug, but he did stop eating long enough to give him a more complete portion of his attention. Ezra gave him an irritated glare to thank him for the kindness of his words. "They will identify your shortcomings, and we will address them,” Thrawn promised. “It will be taxing on you."

The young Jedi rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm not afraid of hard work," He said.

"I did not say that you were," The Chiss replied. It was practically a compliment, considering the speaker. "We will begin your studies of the Chiss language tomorrow. That will be the most difficult task. Ideally, you will gain fluency quickly with immersion, so I will not monopolize your time for long."

Ezra pulled a face. For Thrawn, that little comment was self-deprecating, which bothered the human immensely. Awkwardly, he said, "I don't… mind you teaching me." He put down his utensils entirely, and reached for the mug of caf just to have something warm to hold in his hands. More centered, and a little more confident, he repeated his sentiments from the night before. "Like I told you, I think you're being wasted on me."

Thrawn evaluated him thoughtfully, but did not speak. Ezra caught the smallest hint of sadness in the Force, before it was tucked away. "I suspect this is a lesson for us both," Thrawn said finally.

"Yeah, well, I came here to help. You brought me here to help. If they aren't going to let us do that, we might as well go back."

"It is too early to make such assumptions, Bridger. Patience will be your ally with the Chiss. Consider that a fundamental lesson in dealing with my people."

Ezra changed direction with a searching glance that seemed to go beyond the physical. "You exercise that patience with everyone," He said carefully. Thrawn was not against the Force, but he was not Force sensitive, had never been. Still, he had a knack for knowing when Ezra was using it, or when it was speaking to him. Ezra knew there were other tells. The calm, his tone, even his breathing. It was like tapping into a well.

"I do," Thrawn agreed, voice pinched.

The Jedi sighed, blinking slowly before his eyes refocused on the Chiss in front of him. "What do you do if that isn't enough?"

Thrawn wasn't sure who he was asking for, but answered all the same. "A warrior is patient. Knowing your enemies as well as you know your allies will give you an advantage in defeating them. You can never have too much knowledge."

"Yeah, I agree with that bit about enemies. But what about allies? All I learned today is that the Chiss do not like me and don't think I'm strong enough."

"Time, commitment, and respect will help earn trust," Thrawn said. "You are eager to prove yourself."

"Aren't we both? That's how we fix this."

"My situation does not require fixing," Thrawn hissed. "You would do well to worry about yourself."

"That's not my style. You're the one who asked for my help," Ezra pushed. "And I agreed."

"On behalf of the Ascendancy," Thrawn interjected.

"Yes, and I'm a Jedi - or at least, I'd like to think I am," He retorted. Thrawn could not disagree. "Jedi help people in need. The Ascendancy might need me, but so do you."

"Is that so?" The Chiss asked. Ezra thought he might have seen something subtle shift in Thrawn’s facial expression, there and gone right in front of his eyes. Clearly, he wasn’t impressed.

"Yes." Ezra didn’t shy away from Thrawn’s penetrative gaze. They’d been forced to spend a lot of time together, and clearly there was more of the same in front of them. The only way this would work, Ezra had decided, was if they approached this openly between them.

“You can best help me by getting ahead in your studies, so that we may find ourselves in the most opportune position to assist the Ascendancy,” Thrawn said.

“And whatever’s going on with you?”

“There’s nothing ‘going on,’” Thrawn refuted.

“Right,” Ezra rolled his eyes. “If there’s nothing going on, with you, I’ll eat my boots.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” The Chiss commented dryly, rising from the table. He spared Ezra a glance. “Your concern would be better directed inward, I assure you.”

Ezra matched him, rising and reaching for the ex-Imperial’s tray before he could get his hands on it. “You’re not very convincing,” He argued, taking both trays to the receptacle that separated and sterilized the trays, utensils, and dishes before returning them to the kitchen. Waiting until he was back to Thrawn’s side, despite the empty mess hall around them, Ezra finally said, “But I’ll let it go if you want me to.” He looked up to the taller Chiss. “For now.”

Thrawn didn’t often smile, that wasn’t his way. But Ezra had spent enough time in close quarters to know when something amused him, or at the very least left a positive impression. Most of it was in inflection and tone, posture, the subtle glow of red eyes. Maybe some of that would come in handy with other Chiss he’d be working with. Thrawn interrupted him with a mild, “Come, Bridger. Let us see if you remember the way back to our quarters unaided.”

He rolled his eyes with faux irritation. Thrawn diffused any emotionally relevant conversation with something light, like a teacher quizzing a student. In the beginning, it had been infuriating. Now, Ezra almost welcomed making a fool of himself, leading Thrawn around in circles. He wasn’t used to such large ships, just like he hadn’t been used to the densely forested planet they were on before this. But the benefit of being on a ship and not that jungle planet they’d started out from was that Ezra couldn’t lead them to a den of angry sabretookas while insisting he absolutely knew his way back to camp. Thrawn eyed him with a spectacular deadpan expression after what was probably the third incorrect turn. Ezra was certain that he was thinking the exact same thing.

-/

On the bridge, Captain Ivant watched the blur of stars in hyperspace, his gaze trained on the front transparisteel, just over the bowed head of Navigator Un’hee at the helm. Behind him, the hydraulic doors withdrew as another Navigator entered behind him. They stood a step behind him and to the right, watching for a moment before taking the final step forward to address him.

“She is doing better,” Vah’nya murmured softly. “She is more focused in her studies as well. Not as… attached.”

“I agree,” Ivant nodded. “Some level of attachment is appropriate considering her age,” He said, “But it is not obsessive, like it was before. Having more of her sisters around has given her more responsibility.”

“It has,” Vah’nya said, proud of the young Navigator’s progress. Months ago, she’d been attached to either Ivant or Vah’nya at all times, to the point of needing one of them present to fall asleep. “Being occupied has helped a great deal.”

Shoulder to shoulder, they stood in silence for another few moments. The bridge around them carried on as usual, indicator lights blinking and beeping benignly, attended to by sensor monitors and dedicated officers who kept the ship running smoothly. The sound was calming to the Senior Navigator. She suspected it was to Captain Eli’van’to as well.

“There’s something else on your mind,” The Captain said, stepping to the side so that he could turn to address her fully.

“Well, Sir,” She considered, trailing off.

“Calling me ‘Sir?’” He gave her a half-grin, something so obviously human. None of the bridge staff seemed to think twice about it. “Now I know you want something,” He looked into her eyes, evaluating her. “What is it, Senior Navigator?”

“Navigator Un’hee. She wishes to assist the Jedi.”

“And you do not want her to?”

“I do not want her tied up in the uncertainty that surrounds them. The Jedi's loyalty lies with Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

“I gathered as much, as well.” He took a moment to think about it, looking back at Un’hee. “Does that bother you?”

It took her a moment to speak. “Somewhat,” She admitted. “But I do not doubt Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo as much as others.”

“On that, we agree.” And yet, Ivant continued, "However-"

An alarm sounded. Un’hee’s head snapped up from the helm. “Dropping out of hyperspace,” She informed them. Officers quickly filed back to their posts if they’d been elsewhere. Overall, the ship was neat and orderly, a well oiled machine both physically and in terms of Chiss efficiency and ingenuity.

“Readings are stable,” One of the sensor monitors informed him.

“Deviation from set course?” Ivant asked, when the drop was complete and Un’hee leaned back in her chair, looking out at the black expanse of space.

“Point zero one.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Sun’ami’irn,” He addressed the sensor officer. “Excellent work, Navigator. You may be dismissed.”

Vah’nya offered the small Chiss girl the beginnings of a smile, which was returned with a toothy grin. Un’hee basked in the subtle praise, smoothing her braid over her shoulder. “Yes, Captain,” She said, mindful of bridge procedure. “Senior Navigator,” She acknowledged.

“Good work, Navigator Un’hee,” Vah’nya said. “I will meet you in your quarters in a moment.”

Both Captain and Senior Navigator watched her go. “She understands how important our work is,” Ivant said, in his quietest voice. “If the Grysks did not break her,” He noted Vah’nya’s sharp intake of breath and steadied her by placing a hand on her shoulder - also outside of Chiss standard protocol, but effective and grounding, he’d learned through his dealings with a very emotionally volatile Un’hee - “Nothing will. She knows her orders.”

“You think she’ll continue to seek them out, regardless,” Vah’nya accused. “That is why you would not hear my question before you started talking me out of it.”

Ivant smiled helplessly. It was a charming look, the way his eyes lit up, knowingly tender, his lips pulling back to reveal pearly white teeth in a way that looked far less severe than a Chiss. She suspected it had a lot to do with his Lysatran brown complexion. “I’m sure you wanted to tell him what was going on, too.”

“My-” She exhaled softly, her shoulders rising and falling ever so slightly with the movement. “Our feelings do not matter in this,” She said firmly. “I just worry. She has made so much progress. I do not wish for it to be unmade by the situation.”

“That is my worry for you and all of your sisters, Vah’nya.” He withdrew his hand and offered her a tight smile. “We will look out for them together. Project Compass depends on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Un’hee confirms sinister forces at work, both past and present. Thrawn is delivered harrowing news. Ezra observes and contemplates his course of action.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Un’hee confirms sinister forces at work, both past and present. Thrawn is delivered harrowing news. Ezra observes and contemplates his course of action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 8/30/2020

Six months. It had taken almost all of that time for Ezra not to feel entirely out of his depth amongst the Chiss. It was only recently that he felt comfortable enough to wander around alone and actually make conversation with the rest of the crew in their native language. Suffice to say he wasn't great at speaking Cheunh, but he could get by - and he didn't mind the corrections to his pronunciation and grammar tips as much as he let Thrawn believe.

He also suspected he was in the best shape of his life. In addition to his need to learn their language, the team that assessed him felt him lacking in hand to hand combat. They didn't care about his abilities with a lightsaber - it wasn't as if they were anywhere close to kyber in the Unknown Regions - so that was another deficiency Thrawn set out to correct in their free time.

It was… strangely good to have Thrawn as a teacher. Thrawn, who, despite what Ivant had suggested, wanted Ezra to call him by his core name, who never demanded formality behind closed doors or during lessons, was a good teacher. Ezra might even, with only a small amount of begrudging and a tiny bit of hand waving over their shared past, call him a friend.

Okay, so maybe he just considered Thrawn a friend, the rest of it be damned. Time, getting to know Thrawn, seeing him at work painted a different picture than what he'd known of him from his time with the Rebellion. And he wasn't fifteen anymore, the galaxy wasn't nearly as simple as good versus bad. Thrawn had done bad things. But the Force stopped whispering caution and started murmuring trust a while ago, in conjunction with Ezra's shifting perception.

And, because he considered Thrawn a friend, Ezra had a lot to think about. Aside from their tasks: menial, semi-useful but mostly time-consuming, and Ezra's training and education, they didn't really do much. The ship they were on trained Navigators. It was an extensive nine month program, by Thrawn's estimation, an orientation and adjustment period, followed by theory and education, followed by practice in what was deemed a relatively safe space. Literally. Several times they had docked either on Chiss planets or tethered to larger ships and a Navigator had gone on their way to their new post.

This wasn't why Thrawn had further risked Ezra's ire to slowly slowly earn his trust. And it was, as he felt like he said almost every day, a waste for Thrawn to be forced to spend all his time and attention on him, to be forced to complete tasks more appropriate for people half Thrawn’s age (or whatever he assumed Thrawn’s age was, he hadn’t really seen any old-looking Chiss).

Something was happening here. Something that wasn't being talked about, that perhaps not even the majority of the crew knew of. Thrawn didn’t say anything to Ezra about it, but he was obsessed. Rarely did he leave the door to his quarters open - only if Ezra was working on something and would call for help with a translation - but Ezra’s understanding of the Chiss script was better than his sloppy spoken linguistics. Thrawn was looking into the Navigators and news surrounding them, and similar ships to this one in function. There weren’t any that Thrawn had found.

At first, Ezra suspected Thrawn's search for knowledge stemmed from his previous role, the amount of control he exuded over a situation. But as time went on, he realized that wasn’t entirely the case. Thrawn, someone Ezra viewed as the eye of a storm, a moment of calm despite chaos all around, was at odds with himself. He could feel the Chiss’s imbalance in the Force. But it didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t felt it before they arrived here, and no matter how much Ezra pressed him about his prior rank in comparison to his reprised one and all of its far less glamorous tasks, Thrawn never betrayed any hint of his emotions to Ezra after that first time. Not once.

So maybe, Ezra was starting to think, it wasn’t rank. In fact, for a short while, he almost forgot about it entirely, because Thrawn was acting more or less normal. Still very focused on the truth of whatever was happening aboard the Compass, but normal for Thrawn. Then, they had been put on alert, forced to travel far and away due to Grysk activity in their sector that had claimed two Chiss ships, seen three Navigators taken captive and the vast majority of the crew on both vessels had been slaughtered…

-/

Un’hee had come to their quarters late. So late that both Ezra and Thrawn had been in their respective quarters, Ezra asleep and Thrawn brooding (or whatever he did since Chiss didn’t sleep nearly as much as humans did). She’d slammed her palm so hard into the control panel it rocked the wall of the suite, alerting Thrawn, but Ezra had been able to sense her fear in his dreams, and had fallen out of bed over the emotional storm she had projected metaphysically.

It had taken them a long time to get her to do more than cling to Ezra, burying her face into his chest while she sobbed. In the end, Thrawn had sat across from Ezra on the low table, using the most docile command-tone Ezra had ever heard from him (it wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t laced with the malevolent undercurrent that some of his more gauche statements had been). Slowly, his simple questions that were answered with head shakes or nods fell away and she spoke of her own free will.

“Eli and Vah’nya are busy,” She said to them softly, tilting her head away from Ezra’s chest, although her eyes remained closed. She seemed to be counting through her breaths, Ezra realized in hindsight. It was something he’d seen before, after Kallus had joined their group. Ezra would come across them some nights, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder while Zeb counted inhales and exhales, speaking softly and un-Zeb-like until Kallus’s Coruscanti accent fell into place again.

“Busy with what?” Thrawn asked. Normally, he’d mention the lack of formalities, but this was not the time, and they both seemed to know it.

“They took Navigators,” Un’hee cried. It took her another moment to compose herself. “They said it was a slaughter.”

“The Grysks?”

“Yes,” The Chiss girl confirmed. Ezra had a hard time reconciling these Navigators as the children they were at times, but this was not one of them. “T-they’re consulting with the Admiral, and I couldn’t-”

“It’s alright, Un’hee,” Ezra had said. “You can stay with us.”

“It’s not alright,” The little Navigator said, crying harder. “I know how they think,” She said between gulping breaths, “They’ll put themselves in danger again. They’ve already been captured once,” She cried.

“They?” Thrawn reared back, watching Un’hee very carefully, trying to gain context without interrogating her. He kept his tone light, so soft Ezra almost felt like Thrawn had become a different person. “Who was captured?” He asked. “The Navigators?”

Un’hee shook her head. “Vah’nya wasn’t supposed to go, but her Sight told her she needed to go with him, so she did. The Admiral was furious, and then-” She looked up at Thrawn. “It was a ch'accuscehn ch'erei,” She said.

Ezra didn’t understand, but looked to Thrawn instead of asking.

“A suicide mission,” Thrawn translated slowly, the words rolling dangerously off his lips in Basic. Harder, hungry for knowledge, he pressed, “Vah’nya and who?”

“Eli,” Un’hee held Thrawn’s inquisitive gaze. “He wanted to protect all of us,” She murmured, small blue hands scrubbing at her eyes. Their red glow illuminated the damp tracks of her tears. “I don’t want him to do it again. He was gone for so long,” She whispered. And then she reached for Thrawn.

Ezra had been careful not to cage the girl in with an embrace, but Thrawn drew her against him as though it was second nature. Un’hee seemed far more comfortable in his arms than she ever had been in Ezra’s.

“Captain Ivant-” Un’hee flinched. “Eli,” Thrawn revised slowly, the name sounding awkward on his lips, as though he’d spoken without permission. “He is not going to fight the Grysks today. Our orders were to set course for a sector closer to Wild Space. We will not engage with them, Nav-” He caught himself, “Un’hee.”

“They’ll come after us.”

“They are our enemy,” Thrawn had said, but he was frowning with just his eyes, locking onto Ezra. The young Jedi looked concerned, but stayed silent while Thrawn rose with the child in his arms. She was still short, likely anticipating a major growth spurt, or perhaps it was simply that Thrawn was that tall. “If not the Grysks, the Vagaari,” He said softly. “We must strive to protect that which we care about. It is why we serve, is it not?”

There was a moment of silence between them. “I don’t want Eli to die," She leaned back in Thrawn's grip and looked up at him. "Last time,” Un’hee trailed off. Thrawn tightened his grip on her. If Ezra hadn’t taken stock of his ramrod straight posture, he would have assumed he was comfortable with cradling the child to him as he paced the length of their shared space in an effort to soothe her. “I didn’t want to see, but I had to,” She said. “Vah’nya wouldn’t have survived if he hadn’t-”She shook her head.

“You do not have to tell us,” Thrawn soothed. “Not if it troubles you.”

“You want to know,” She said. “And this is what I can tell you.”

Ezra’s lips pursed, his brow furrowing as he focused on the child. The Force hung around all of the Navigators, not Light, not Dark, not like it did a human. It was present and alive and neutral, almost like the Bendu had been, but different still. Right now, around Un’hee, it was a maelstrom of emotions: fear, guilt, and sadness. Behind it, small and growing, a feeling of safety. Comfort. But it wasn’t just Un’hee. He felt Thrawn, too. Thrawn’s worry was strong in the Force. Palpable. And with each word from Un’hee - how the Captain, then a Lieutenant Commander, had managed to kill and escape a Grysk led force of what the Navigator called Scratchlings, saving Navigator Vah’nya in the process, how he’d been promoted on his deathbed by Admiral Ar’alani, unsure if the long-term injuries would be something even a Chiss could survive - that worry went deep and grew stronger until it churned with fear and longinging, a lonely pain that Ezra felt in his core.

When the Navigator had inevitably cried herself out, falling asleep on Thrawn's shoulder, Ezra made a quiet joke about how Thrawn was going to pace a track into the duracrete tiling. Thrawn hadn't responded, and Ezra finally took it upon himself to stand in Thrawn's way, easing the exhausted girl out of his arms and settling her on the couch.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ezra asked him as he stepped into his small room to pluck the blanket from his bed, throwing it over the child. He knew the answer would be a negative, but he left the option open.

Thrawn lingered in the doorway of his room, stiff-spined and wound tight. Ezra leaned against the wall that led to the tiny front corridor of the suite, where his quarters were. They stayed that way for a long, long time.

"Eli Vanto was present when I was found by the Empire," Thrawn said eventually. To Ezra, it had felt like being briefed on a mission. "I persuaded the Emperor to give him to me as a translator. We worked together for more than a decade, in service to the Empire."

"You were friends," Ezra said, connecting the dots.

"I-" Thrawn looked to Ezra in that moment, and it struck him that a man like Thrawn did not have many friends. He had allies. Enemies. A brother, apparently, though who knew where they stood with each other. "I had hoped so."

Thrawn had never given Ezra more than those few words. Not that he had to. Ezra was careful not to bring it up again. But he watched, now. He saw how Thrawn was not eager to please, but willing to pull his weight. He wanted to earn the Captain’s trust, but that seemed impossible. Ivant was never in the same room as Thrawn for longer than five minutes, it seemed, and if it was that long, it was because he was speaking with someone else.

Their longest conversation had been during a report in which they’d been sent planetside to a world that spoke more Sy Bisti than Cheunh, about a month after Un’hee’s stay in their quarters. It had been a standard debrief, nothing much had happened, but Captain Ivant had spoken with Thrawn as though they’d always had this relationship. Ivant’s Sy Bisti was more impressive than his Cheunh. His drawl fit in perfectly with the language, sounding polite and yet inviting.

Afterward, Ezra pretended not to hear the slam of a datapad across the desk inside Thrawn’s quarters and left him to his own devices.

All of it had him wondering, and that was why he’d decided to do some recon of his own. Not on what the Chiss were up to. He had a feeling that would reveal itself in due time. There was a reason he was in this place. He’d felt that in his meditations for a while now.

Un'hee slipped into the mess with a big yawn. Her braids were definitely slept in, and she tucked a stray blue-black lock behind her ear with one hand while she waved at Ezra with the other.

Hardly anyone was here at this hour, the Chiss tended to stay up exceedingly late and sleep during until mid-morning, rather than sleep and rise early. It worked out in his favor. He was usually awake before Thrawn, who had readapted to Ascendency life rather gracefully. It had been quite a surprise to the Chiss at first to find Ezra an early-riser, but some things about Rebel culture were ingrained. Ezra pushed down some of his homesickness and looked into his caf - black, the way he'd gotten used to drinking it after Kanan was injured to save their remaining sugar for his tea - then pushed it back altogether and he saw Un'hee approach him from the corner of his vision. She reached for his mug and refilled it with the warming kettle she must have gotten from the mess staff.

It was nearly empty, but Un'hee dashed to return it. The interaction with others was enough to wake the young Chiss up. "You're here early," she said as a greeting. "Is everything well?"

"Everything's fine, Un'hee."

"It does not seem like it," She said, frowning over a warm cereal that Ezra tried once and hated. Apparently the bread was the most modest of food offerings amongst the Chiss, but Ezra had always believed himself to be a rather simple guy. Stranger still was that he shared a common taste in Chiss cuisine with his suite-mate (except for that dreaded tea half the crew drank).

“Humans are used to getting up early and sleeping when the sun is down - so at the end of a standard rotation,” He explained in Cheunh. It was slower than speaking in Basic, but Ezra was trying to do as Thrawn instructed and speak only in Cheunh during the day. It was getting easier. He still dreamed in Basic for the most part, but that was likely to continue regardless of how many languages he learned. “I think the standard day here is a little longer.”

“Yes,” Un’hee agreed. She set down her spoon rather than point it at him. The young girl had a tendency to talk with her hands when she was excited or off-duty, and this was at least the latter, though he was sure she’d be more excited if she hadn’t just rolled out of bed.

“Why are you up so early?”

“Oh,” Un’hee shrugged. “No reason.”

“You don’t have anything for another five standard hours,” He said, looking at the chrono-projection on the wall. “It’s definitely too early for you.”

Un’hee reclaimed her spoon and pushed some of the cereal around. “I have supplemental lessons,” She said, quietly. “Like your language ones.”

“For what?” Ezra’s face wrinkled with his frown. “You aren’t struggling with any of your studies.” That, Ezra knew, was true. Un’hee, despite only being nine years old, had the maturity and intelligence of a being at least five years older, and a recall that was otherworldly thanks to the strength of her Sight.

She shrugged. “I didn’t ask for them,” She said, sharing a sly smile and the tiny twinkling of a giggle with him. With an eye-roll more befitting an ornery teenager, she continued, “I just go as ordered.”

Ezra nodded in sympathy. He understood how that went. “Don’t let them work you too hard,” He said between bites of his bread. Today he’d had some kind of butter put on the flat slices. It was a more savory than sweet flavor, and Ezra found that he liked it more than the sweet jam Thrawn always slathered over his own. He pushed away the thought of how strange a sweet-toothed Thrawn was, and tried to keep his focus on Un’hee. Though their abilities in the Force were minimally similar, the Chiss Navigators always managed to tell when his thoughts wandered.

“So,” She said, when most of her cereal was gone and she had only a glass of some milky green juice left, “Why are you up and in the mess this early? You almost always wait for Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

That was a classified question, but Ezra couldn’t give the girl that for an answer. He had to come up with something. His goal had been to eat a quick breakfast and see if he could make it to the workout center on the second level that the Captain was rumored to frequent in the mornings. Like the Navigators, he had been given permission to use whatever training facilities aboard he wished, while the rest of the crew were assigned to facilities by rank and proximity from their lodgings.

“I’m-”

“Navigator Un’hee,” An authoritative voice called from behind the girl. In an instant, the young Navigator was on her feet, at attention.

“Admiral Ar’alani!” She squeaked, both surprised and elated. It appeared to take an effort on the girl's part not to run to the superior officer.

Ezra was quick to rise as well, shoulders and back straightening to Chiss appropriate standards. "Good morning, Admiral," He said in Cheunh when Ar'alani's intense gaze - like Thrawn's, but more obvious about looking for slip-ups - trailed over him. It felt heavy and appraising, much now Ezra had considered Thrawn in the past. He forced himself to stay still under her scrutiny.

"Good morning, Ezra'Bridger," She replied. "At ease," She instructed them next, and though she gave no indication, she seemed approving of Ezra's understanding of the instruction, shifting to parade rest rather than relaxing fully like Un'hee.

"It seems Mitth'raw'nuruodo has provided adequate instruction," Ar'alani moved closer. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He replied, again in Cheunh.

She nodded. Her voice was interesting, Ezra decided. Dangerous and silky like Thrawn's, but more melodious. Coiled, like a deadly predator, waiting to strike. "You do not have supplemental lessons like Navigator Un'hee this early, is that correct?"

Ezra stiffened. "No, Ma'am."

The smallest hint of satisfaction curled her lip, there and gone before Ezra could blink. "Excellent. Will Mitth'raw'nuruodo be necessary to translate for you?"

"I should be alright, Ma'am."

"Fine. You will ask if you do not understand. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

She nodded, satisfied. To Un’hee, she instructed, “Finish your meal. When you go to your supplemental session, please Vah’nya know he is with me. Captain Ivant is aware.”

Un’hee nodded while Ezra reached for his datapad, sitting beside his tray on the table. “Should I inform Commander Thrawn?”

“No,” Ar’alani said, lips thinning. Ezra’s finger’s stilled over the datapad before he could open his communications. “With me, Sky-walker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Ezra encounters the Grysks. Thrawn has a confrontation. Vah’nya does something that could jeopardize everything.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Ezra encounters the Grysks. Thrawn has a confrontation. Vah’nya does something that could jeopardize everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 8/30/2020

Admiral Ar’alani kept him to a brisk pace. Like most of the adult Chiss, she was both taller and more slender than Ezra. They moved through the ship to the upper levels, and then, instead of turning toward the Captain’s office like Ezra had expected, they made an about face out of the lift and went to the upper hangar of the ship.

“Someone will tell Mitth’raw’nuruodo that you are occupied today. Do you fear that he will worry about you?” Something about the curl of Ar’alani’s voice didn’t sit comfortably with the young Jedi. “Or are you worried that something will happen to him while you’re away?”

“Respectfully,” Ezra grit out, his Cheunh heavily accentuated, “It’s a little of both.”

“A wise answer,” She concurred. “Nothing will happen to Mitth’raw’nuruodo. As far as he will know, it is any other day, except that Captain Ivant wished to meet with you regarding your progress.” She steered him into the hangar, gesturing with a stiff arm to a sleek shuttle. She looked down to him with a peaked eyebrow as if asking him to question her obvious lie. Captain Ivant was not on that ship, and Ezra could sense it. “If you have reservations, speak.”

Ezra met her gaze with hard eyes of his own. “I do not, Admiral.”

“You are brave,” She said. “May warrior’s fortune be in our favor today.”

That gave Ezra pause. “Admiral?”

The Chiss tutted. “Thrawn has imparted the meaning of this phrase, yes?”

“He has,” Ezra answered immediately. “Are we going into battle?”

“We are,” She confirmed. “Tell me,” Ar’alani held his eyes with a piercing gaze that reminded Ezra of facing Thrawn over Lothal. It was a grim expression for such an elegant face. “Have you ever seen a Grysk?”

-/

It had been forty-eight hours since Ezra had been last seen aboard the _Compass_. Thrawn was not expecting to worry as much as he did. None of the Navigators seemed to know anything, not that he went out of his way to glean information. In the time since Ezra had disappeared, he had been given all sorts of tasks, the Captain’s underlings - most of whom were far younger and more inexperienced - pumping him for information and expertise. There was concern for civil war within the Ascendency, Thrawn had come to realize. The ruling families were at odds, restricting their strengths and using them as bargaining chips to the detriment of their people. The divisions were far more severe than they had been when he’d left for the fledgling Empire.

Thrawn did not pretend to be remotely knowledgeable in politics. The subtle nuances of that theatre of battle were often lost on him. He was military. His brother, on the other hand, was charismatic, witty and the owner of an equally impressive facade. It was why they brought their family honor, not that that really meant anything to Thrawn. He walked a warrior’s path. Honor was important for that reason. Glory was something that Mitth’ras’safis relished. It made the syndic’s job easier and helped his word carry more clout amongst his peers.

But, worse than that, it was the Second ruling family pulling back. The ruling family that, opposite Thrawn’s own, helped oversee military affairs. The fallout would rip their defenses in two. It would lead to military sabotage, and games of espionage that would take away from the Grysks, who were more active and out in the open in the last five years than they had been in all of Thrawn’s years before that.

Vah’nya had pulled him into a briefing room after his mid-shift break, her posture tense and the glow of her eyes so dim he could see the deep garnet-red ring around her irises. “The missing Navigators from the most recent Grysk incident have been recovered,” She informed him. Her posture and tone reminded him subtly of Ar’alani. No doubt, once her sight faded, she would continue her military career in a field of her choosing. She had good instincts and could be soft without yielding. She had the right sort of empathy that many, himself included, lacked at times.

“You will accompany me to meet the crew that recovered them,” She continued. “I need your eyes.”

“Mine?”

“Ivant is occupied,” She commented dryly. “It is a sensitive situation and they will be arriving soon.”

Thrawn frowned at that but followed her through the ship and to the lift that descended to the lower hangar. “Have you heard word of Ezra’Bridger?” He dared to ask, when the doors had closed behind them.

She shook her head once, remaining silent for a moment. “And if I had, I am under strict orders not to update you.”

“I care little about mission status, Navigator. My concern is that Bridger is not sent into a situation he does not understand for sake of a people who have kept him in the dark about their motives, like a caged animal.”

“I cannot tell if you are speaking of yourself or if you are speaking out of concern for your ward.”

“What happens to me is of little consequence,” Thrawn assured her. “There is a price to pay for my actions, and I will pay it.” The Navigator edged away from him slowly, her shoulder touching the far side of the lift. “He joined our cause because I convinced him that he would be of help.”

“And that is what he is doing,” Vah’nya turned to him, her eyes a little wild, but her stance confident. “Both of you are where you are because that is the place in which you can be of the most use.”

“That isn’t true.”

“It is,” She asserted. Her eyes narrowed. “You do not see what I see,” She insisted hotly.

“Or what you’ve seen,” The ex-Admiral said bluntly, outmaneuvering her. He put his other pieces into play. “Eight months in Grysk captivity is a substantial time, Navigator. It was nothing like Un’hee’s previous experience. You knew things. Things they wanted to know.”

Vah’nya did not back down from him. If he had not been so single-mindedly focused on his objective, he might have catalogued such a feat away. “That is not common knowledge,” She said. “How did you come to know?”

“Un’hee spent an evening in our company when these particular Navigators were taken,” Thrawn informed her. "I was able to extrapolate the information from her statements."

The Navigator slammed her palm on the brake and the lift powered down in transit, jerking before coming to a rest. “You utilized her distress for information?”

“She told us without my prompting.”

“So she felt your anguish and regret,” Vah’nya spat as though he was guilty of it all the same. “Like an aura that clings to your skin.” Her livid eyes lifted to meet his before she seemed to sink into an otherworldly calm. “Choose your next words very carefully. You do not have many allies left to lose.”

“I wish to know what is happening with the boy,” He said. “That is all.”

“And Eli?”

“I will not ask you any further questions about what transpired.”

She hit the toggle to resume power to the lift, shifting to a rest position. “He is with the Admiral. She wished to get to know him better. I was not made aware of the details, but I suspect he will be back in another rotation.”

Thrawn nodded. “Thank you, Navigator.”

Dipping her head ever-so-slightly, Vah’ya looked at her own reflection in the mirror-like durasteel. Then, she let her eyes meet Thrawn’s through the metal as well. Her anger was reined in, her features smoothing. “Even if I wanted to tell you, I would not,” She whispered fervently, scratching at her arm. The light material of her black uniform sleeve pulled up ever so slightly, revealing a pale smattering of scars upon her arm. Thrawn did not ask about it, and she pulled the material back down without looking at them. The doors whooshed open seconds later and Thrawn stepped forward. Vah’nya grabbed his wrist and held fast, deciding on something at the last second. “He is a good man, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. He protected me from the worst of it.”

“I believe you," Thrawn said. "He has a warrior's heart.”

Vah’nya released him. She could hear the rare overt sincerity in Thrawn’s words. And it was true. Eli’van’to was kind and he was good, and Mitth’raw’nuruodo, for all the things she’d heard and felt and seen, had been enough to convince Eli to come to the Ascendancy all on his own. Despite what others might think, Vah’nya believed that had to count for something.

-/

Ezra had been assigned to the primary boarding party after nearly an entire rotation of sitting at an empty station in the bridge with Admiral Ar’alani while she asked him about his abilities within the Force. He’d slipped into and out of meditation on the bridge - she hadn’t allowed him to go anywhere else aboard without her personally accompanying him - with her eyes trained on the back of his neck while he looked out at the expanse of space.

Apparently, it took time to make sure the Grysk ship was not only disabled, but that it was safe. He’d learned about Grysk tactics, how they’d prefer to expire rather than be taken alive, how they’d rig whatever they’d left to explode, how they were merciless and twisted and whatever beings they held captive would be manipulated into doing their bidding like willing (or unwilling) slaves.

The Admiral had stood shoulder to shoulder with him, soldiers both in front and behind. “Do you sense anything?” She asked him. The tone of her voice was serious but different. She intended to teach him something.

The Jedi closed his eyes and concentrated. His body jerked when he felt it, and Ar’alani reached out with a firm grip, grabbing his shoulder.

“That,” She said, with a curt nod, “Is a Grysk.”

“Can you-”

“Not anymore,” She interrupted, looking straight ahead. “But I will never forget it. We do not perceive what you call the Force the same as you do. We do not war like your Jedi and Sith. Our Sight is not like that.” They continued, Ar’alani’s hand remaining firm on his shoulder. “But what we feel,” She said, “That is something I think runs similarly enough for us to relate to one another. You must trust me.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Ezra said dutifully.

“No,” Ar’alani snapped, spinning him with her grip. “Look at me.”

Ezra did. The Admiral waited until his posture relaxed marginally.

“I will guide you, but I cannot feel what you feel as sharply anymore. You will keep us safe. There are enemies aboard this vessel. Your abilities will give us an edge. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Ezra said, sure to meet her eyes.

“Good.” She turned him back to face the men in front of them and gave the order. “Proceed with caution.”

-/

The lower hangar was alarmingly empty when they came to the doors. Only a small group of armed guardsmen and medics, as well as one of the normal four overseers on the control deck set above the hangar were present. The hangar itself was moderately large for a vessel of this size. Of the ten docking bays, four housed smaller Chiss craft that were rarely used but well maintained. The remaining six were typically empty, saved for arriving shuttles from larger craft.

There was an unknown ship in the hangar. It was not Imperial, but a well-armed transport vessel dating before the Empire that had come from shipyards that had since produced imperial craft. By comparison, it dwarfed the sleeker Chiss shuttles.

Vah'nya spoke briskly, standing in the doorway with Thrawn to her left. "All non-medical personnel are dismissed," She commanded. "You will be contacted by control when you are required to return."

Thrawn cast her an inquisitive glance. The Navigator ignored him.

The ramp of the non-Chiss ship had been lowered, and two of the armed Chiss that had been monitoring it stepped back and left as they approached.

"You may disembark," Vah'nya called out.

Two humans descended the ramp. One stood beside a very unhappy Navigator who appeared roughly a year or two older than Un'hee. The girl's hair hung limp and tangled over her shoulders, like a curtain to help distract from the way her lip trembled and the gouge on her cheek. Vah'nya reached for her instead of the other child, a younger Navigator with dressings wrapped around her arms and peeking out beneath her torn pant leg. She chose as she did because the younger girl was already being carried, and did not seem to be in any distress.

"The eldest were killed," Vah'nya said in Basic. It wasn't a question.

Thrawn stayed silent beside her, watching and waiting. Vah'nya was trying to show him something, and he was as of yet unsure what. Behind the two humans, further up the ramp that led into the ship, there were more footsteps. Another person, perhaps.

"Trying to keep them from us, Senior Navigator," Said the older of the two girls in very broken Basic. "I tried-" The girl coughed, and Thrawn saw the blood - it was hot, contrasting in the infrared spectrum against her skin - dot her hand.

"You did well to protect your sister," Vah'nya said soothingly, crouching down to eye-level. She laid a hand over the girl's more superficial injury, wiping away some of the excess blood to see the wound, then wiped it on her tunic as if it were a bit of dust to be discarded. "The medics will tend to you," She smiled again, a small, reassuring thing, and cupped the younger Navigator's cheek once more. The child flinched at the touch, then seemed to relax instantly.

Quickly, the medics sprung into action, taking the little one from the human male's arms and carefully easing the older of the two onto a stretcher that hovered at waist level. Thrawn noted that when the girl swiveled her head so she could keep her eyes on Vah'nya for as long as she could, both of her cheeks were dirty, but unblemished.

That was strange, he thought. He had not seen either of the medics administer bacta.

-/

Above them, and unseen in the control tower that overlooked the hangar, Captain Ivant clenched his fists and swore in Sy Bisti. The lone tech who remained on duty took a microscopic step away from his furious superior. "What the kriff do you think you're doing, Vah'nya?" He growled to no one in particular, keying the console’s holo-cameras to focus on Thrawn.

As luck would have it, a woman's voice - also in Sy Bisti - rang out loud and clear, demanding Thrawn's attention without so much as an order.

Thrawn's voice was pinched with surprise as it carried through the tiny speaker in front of the console."Commodore Faro?"

Though, when it came to outsmarting Thrawn, nobody ever got lucky. If he saw what had happened, if it looked even one atom out of line, Thrawn would analyze the details with that ridiculous recall of his. It wouldn't be right away, Vanto knew, but if Thrawn was already trying to figure out what was going on aboard the _Compass_ , which he was, this moment could - and more likely, would - be a catalyst.

"Damn fool," He said aloud, turning on his heel. Now he'd have to do pre-emptive damage control, in addition to the rest of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: A reunion between Thrawn and an old colleague. Ivant and Ar’alani discuss dangerous complications.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: A reunion between Thrawn and an old colleage. Ivant and Ar'alani discuss dangerous complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 8/30/2020

Karyn Faro tipped her head in the direction of the hold. "Unload the rest of the cargo, if you would," She directed her crew in a tone that wasn't quite commanding, but left little room to argue. The two men standing just off the ramp turned in a hurry, nodding politely as they passed.

"It is good to see you," Vah'nya spoke in Sy Bisti. Beside her, Thrawn stared at Faro as if seeing a ghost. Both women had left him to stew while they conversed.

"They speak it too," Faro answered. "They're good kids, the both of them."

"Trustworthy?"

"Enough to be here and unload the Admiral's meiloorun shipment." Laughing, she continued, "I'm serious. I regret ever letting her try them that time on the _Chimaera_."

"It was a good gateway for discussion, though," Vah'nya smiled but got to business. "I know he meant to meet you, but Captain Ivant is busy at present."

The other woman looked breezily past Thrawn and around the empty Hangar. "I'm sure." She waited for Vah'nya to act, and when she didn't, Faro spoke again. "Go in and question them about the ordeal. They already know to expect it and don't need me to hold their hands."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," Faro glanced at Thrawn before a casual smile unfurled across her lips. “We’ll be outside.”

Once Vah’nya was satisfied, Karyn Faro stepped around Thrawn, moving towards the far wall of the hangar. He wasn’t far behind her. It was easy for him to catch up. They were nearly to the far end of the hangar before he spoke. “The Empire does not know you are here.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, Thrawn catching the lack of forward momentum in his periphery and turning immediately. “No,” She bit off the beginning of the habitual ‘sir,’ and there was something sad about the almost curl of her lips as she appraised him, drawing her own conclusions. “Of course he didn’t tell you,” She said, then rolled her eyes, giving clear voice to her disdain. “I don’t know why I thought he would.”

It was another few steps, when they were furthest from the transport ship’s dock, before she spoke up again. Thrawn was plenty patient and willing to wait her out. “I’m not with the Empire anymore,” She said carefully.

At that, Thrawn frowned. His question took her by surprise. “Was it because of your association with me that they dismissed you?” He asked.

The conversation stopped awkwardly again, Faro looking up at Thrawn in two separate instances during the course of selecting the right words. No doubt experience told her that stress was stored in the tense line of his upper back, his words were soft and clipped, indicative of anger without any real outlet.

“Dismissed,” She repeated hesitantly. “They didn’t dismiss me,” She watched his face for a reaction. “I defected.” Of all the times she’d said it - to former colleagues, to allies who had once been enemies - this time her voice held the most certainty and resolve.

Grim was the only word that could be used to describe the twist of Thrawn’s lips. “You narrowly escaped the fate of the Seventh Fleet over Lothal, and your command was secured. What would possess you-”

Her dark eyes burned into his glowing ones. “Loyalty,” She interrupted fiercely. “Tens of thousands, just - gone - overnight.” Her eyebrows drew closer together. “And it was nothing to them. And you… You were in their inner circle, Thrawn,” She stumbled ever so slightly over the lack of title, but continued all the same. “You were supposed to be trusted. They glossed over you like you never existed.”

“I am an alien,” Thrawn pressed. “I was never going to be trustworthy.”

“Maybe that’s true, but you got results.”

“Until I didn’t,” He argued, looking away, contemplating something deep within his mind. His face didn't shift from its usual brand of stoic. Silence fell over them again, the conversation having an ebb and flow like ocean waves.

“I didn’t want anything to do with the Rebellion,” She said plainly, when it was clear he wouldn't say anymore. “Though I kind of understand them now. I think they might have a shot at taking out the Empire. They destroyed Stardust, you know. Over Yavin."

"Syndulla's group?"

"Leia Organa's, technically," Faro didn't appear impressed about that, but she smirked and added, "Syndulla was a bit busy having a baby. Apparently Pryce didn't succeed in wiping Jarrus out entirely, not for lack of trying." Again, she rolled her eyes but he could see begrudging respect in them, all the same.

They swung back around, moving slowly back to their starting point. "Bridger will want to know more about the child. "

"She, uh, had a boy?” Faro's eyebrows raised. "Vanto will tell him, sir, you don't have to worry about the details."

Ignoring the slip up, Thrawn changed directions tactfully as he recognized the opening. "The Captain has not been forthcoming with information with either Bridger or myself. I assume you've been providing the Ascendancy with reports, yes?"

"Yes," Karyn nodded, then pressed, "Look, if he hadn't told you, I'm sure he has a reason. Hell," She held back her snort, "Maybe he doesn't know how to handle the role reversal. He did spend most of his career in your shadow, you know."

"You're deflecting, Karyn Faro." Thrawn seemed to draw himself up to his full height, looking through her with a focused glance. "You know something you aren't telling me."

"Well I know I didn't miss you reading my mind," She quipped. "Even if it is damn impressive."

"Your newfound willingness to speak casually in my presence will not distract me, either. You know this." Thrawn guided them just short of the transport and turned to do another circuit through the empty Hangar.

"Look, I can't tell you what Vanto's doing. I don't know. I make my deliveries, the Admiral takes whatever she's supposed to - sometimes I see her, most times I don't - and then I go back to the Outer Rim and do it all over."

"And you rendezvous always with this vessel?"

"This one or the _Steadfast_."

Thrawn didn’t hesitate to push further. "And how exactly did you come to be in contact with the Admiral?"

Faro paused. Thrawn waited for her to catch up. "I contacted Vanto." He continued their circuit at a sedate pace. She remembered this. If she closed her eyes, the ex-Imperial could imagine them traversing the upper deck of the _Chimaera_. He walked slower when inviting his subordinates to talk, when there was something he was looking to press them for. When he had no time for others, he would walk so fast most people ended up paces behind him. All except Vanto, who remained one step behind but on pace, shorter legs be damned. 

On some level, she thought, maybe he deserved this, whatever fresh hell he was experiencing with his people, Vanto, and the Jedi who she had absolutely no desire in meeting. "They knew you were missing before you missed a scheduled data-dump." She smirked. “Yeah, I found out about that,” She said. “Can’t say I blame you, now.”

"How?"

"You know how," She said. "Vanto was in my office."

"With Ronan watching."

"Yes, he was underfoot the entire time," She agreed, "But our admirals expected us to be better than that." If the mood was lighter, she suspected Thrawn might smile, even if it was just with a knowing gleam in his eye. He did not, so she pressed on. "Ar’alani wanted an alternative means of communication. Apparently, she trusted you and Vanto’s judgements enough to consider me an option."

"And so you contacted them."

"As soon as I found out." Her dark eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. "Look, you know how Vanto is," Faro said, looking conflicted. Her posture said she wanted to say more, but she couldn't. And as someone who rarely held her tongue, that was significant. "I can't really say more than that."

"This version of Vanto is not the same," Thrawn said. "He cannot bear to be in my presence."

"So that's what this is about," She said, understandingly. Thrawn hated it.

"My decisions over Lothal, while necessary, were regrettable. He sees me as responsible, and I cannot blame him. I am."

"Yes and no. Your back was against the wall, and I think they all knew it.” Faro pursed her lips just a little. “I know you probably don’t need my advice,” She began carefully. Respect flavored her tone. “But I think you should talk to Vanto. Alone.”

“I have not had the opportunity.”

“Then make one.” Faro looked back to see Vah’nya exiting the ship, a series of crates stacked onto hover carts. Her lips thinned into a polite smile. “We should get back to the others.”

-/

“We have two issues.”

Captain Ivant sat at the desk in his office, his workstation and holo projectors whirring softly as they displayed data. As if sitting in the chair across from his desk and not in her command chair upon the _Steadfast_ , Admiral Ar’alani gave him a stern look.

When he finished outlining the first, Ar’alani asked, “You are certain of what you saw?”

“I am.”

“I will speak with Vah’nya upon our arrival. Perhaps I’ll take her with me for a time.”

“That will only make him more curious, assuming he noticed.” She levied her gaze upon him once more. “And I do assume he did,” Ivant continued, answering what was sure to be the next question. Despite the plushness of his chair, he shifted slightly, leaning forward to take in some of the data being sent to him. "Besides, she is needed here."

Ar’alani considered it. “He will not have any basis for comparison, and there is no logic behind it. It will bother him, but so long as he does not receive any other indication of the occurrence, it will remain an irksome anomaly.”

“I know he’s trying to figure out our goal here. It’s been months and we’ve only gone after small-time smugglers. Nothing related. He’s not good at complacency.”

“No, he is not. This is the first instance you are aware of?”

“Yes.” Ivant stopped swiping through data and pulled up something for closer inspection. The Admiral did not continue the discussion of Thrawn, so he moved onto the next, more pressing situation. “Did your sweep recover any listening devices from the Grysk ship?”

“The techs are still combing the debris. Should we?”

“The frequencies jump around a bit in the collection data from your time aboard their vessel. Not enough for a long-grange broadcast, but enough to alert anything in the immediate vicinity.”

“Would it correspond with the Jedi using his abilities under duress?”

He pulled up a different set of data and combined it with what he'd already been studying, explaining, “No, it wouldn’t jump like that. I’m using his training data as a control. The interference he creates with his Force abilities is typically a deviation of negative point zero four. This is tiny blips of positive distortion over time. Like a Chiss monitoring device making a short range sweep.”

Ar’alani leaned back in her seat. Her hand cradled her chin for a moment as she thought. “Be plain in what you are saying.”

“You found evidence that the Navigators Faro and her crew brought back to us were on that ship at some point. Eli swiped along some data, highlighting it. Aboard her command ship, the Admiral saw the red borders appear around it in real time. “The readings are comparable to our own equipment because it is our equipment.”

“And the Grysk were studying it? They have seen it before. It is useless to them.” Ar’alani paused at Ivant’s brisk head shake. “Something else,” She realized. “Speak, Captain.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Ivant said. “Both girls reported being summoned for a routine physical prior to the attack. They were given a booster of some sort - neither asked for what. I believe the devices were implanted subdermally. The two recovered have an incision about two centimeters wide on their deltoid made by their captors, which is consistent with the charts we pulled from the military database.”

“The rest, if you please,” Ar’alani waved a hand. “I follow so far.”

“I believe the original Grysk attack was a setup. Misleading intel, incomplete backups, the gaps in the data are intentional. The ships attacked were pre-selected. Possibly wounded before the Grysks arrived to finish the job.”

“Why go through that trouble implementing a listening device just to kill the crew?”

“The Grysks tend to keep persons of interest alive to see if they can exploit them. If they were kept alive, we would recover them. I don’t believe for a minute they were trying to spy on the Grysks.”

“You believe this was an attempt to look into our activities,” It wasn’t a question.

Still, he answered. “Yes, Admiral,” Ivant said, eyes hard. “I do.”

Ar'alani spoke into a separate comms device, her voice clipped and dangerous as she ordered another sweep and the immediate quarantine of the Navigator's recovered body. The not quite sheepish - or, as Ivant had come to understand it, Chiss sheepish - voice of the lieutenant on the other end was quick in coming. They'd already found the remains of one of the implanted spying devices.

-/

Ezra stood in the doorway to his and Thrawn's quarters for a second too long, Un'hee at his side. She quaked in sympathetic distress, but kept a brave face. "They are frightening," She said softly in Basic. "But we are stronger than them."

He nodded. He didn't tell her how he wished he had his lightsaber. In fact, he didn't say much of anything, just focused on not letting her feel just how unsettled he was. Her Sight was strong, he knew that from working with her and getting to understand how Navigators did what they did, how they perceived the Force. He doubted he was entirely successful.

But Un’hee simply sat with him, silent but present. He knew he needed to meditate, but right now, the cold made his hands shake and he didn't have it in him to close his eyes and keep them that way.

He heard her keying something on her datapad, and another Navigator appeared a few moments later, allowing themselves entry to the suite. They were very young, maybe five or six years old. Un'hee smiled at the girl and her residual fear seemed to melt away like it had hardly been there at all. 

"Navigator Ke'hala," She began, and the rest of her words seemed to melt away, fuzzy and unknowable. Ezra didn't pretend to understand it, instead focusing to try and convince his rapidly beating heart to stop thundering in his ears. He'd seen horrible things, but nothing like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: A conversation in Sy Bisti. Thrawn gives Ezra good news.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: A conversation in Sy Bisti. Thrawn gives Ezra good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 8/30/2020

Shock was a common occurrence among soldiers. Thrawn had seen it in many theatres: space battles with pale faced new ensigns, undercover missions seasoned veterans never fully returned from, ground troops executing an enemy for the first time. Soldiers he could relate to, Chiss or otherwise. Was his presence preferable or soothing? Unlikely. But he knew how to intervene.

Ezra Bridger might be a Jedi, but he was a soldier, too. He'd come of age within the Rebellion's militia-like structure. He adapted well, and Thrawn had not forgotten that he'd successfully infiltrated an Imperial military academy, either. Thrawn could deal with talking down soldiers far better than he could deal with Navigators. The question was whether or not his subconscious would register Thrawn as an enemy due to their history.

In Basic, which Thrawn had not spoken for weeks in the other man's presence, he asked, "Is Navigator Un'hee's presence helping or hurting?"

Un'hee shot him a dirty look. He ignored it.

Sitting in the middle of the couch, Ezra's dazed expression didn't change. He licked his lips, swallowed, but no words came.

"Navigator," Thrawn intoned, not gently but hardly rude. "I ask that you leave us."

"I don't want to leave him alone like this." She reached for one of Ezra's hands, and the young man twitched, clenched tightly to his knees.

"I will stay with him," Thrawn said. "I fear your Sight is hurting more than helping."

"I'm being careful," Un'hee argued. "I know how he feels and you know it."

"Healso knows how you feel, Navigator Un'hee," The glow of Thrawn's eyes were muted, indicative of his attempt to remain calm, and inspire it in her, too.

"Ivant said he was coming to talk to him," She relented, pushing herself up from the cushion to Ezra's left. "After he finished with Admiral Ar'alani."

"I will be sure to expect him then," Thrawn replied, derailing Un'hee's hope that the threat of Eli Vanto in close quarters would allow her to stay. "Please, Navigator."

Thrawn was not naturally impolite, in fact it was the opposite. But he retained a firm grasp of order, and did not often ask. Un'hee sighed. "If I can help…" She trailed off.

"I will send you a message."

The girl doubted she would receive anything, but still obeyed his request. When the door shut behind her, Thrawn rose. Ezra's eyes followed him without seeing. "I suspect you feel cold," He said. "I will return with a blanket."

The aftermath of a battle tended to hit far harder than the battle itself. The subconscious caught up to the conscious mind, the cocktail of chemicals produced by the neural system of the body dissipated. Thrawn procured two blankets instead of one, taking the top layer of bedding from each of their bunks. Ezra was normally cold.

He considered his datapad for a moment. Then, considering for a moment her surprise, Thrawn balanced it on his lap to send a message to Un'hee.

-/

The door to the suite opened slowly, drawing Thrawn's gaze. The brighter light that spilled in from the hallway was eclipsed by a shadow far larger than that of Un'hee, who he’d been expecting. It had only been a few moments since her confirmation message came through that she’d return with something warm for Ezra to drink, likely caf. Thrawn listened to the first, heavier footfall and was on his feet in a second. Ezra turned his head warily, jolted by the quick motion of the man beside them.

"Captain Ivant," Thrawn greeted, voice hollow. Beside him, Ezra blinked, and attempted to rise, swaying in place. The Commander prepared to keep him down with a hand, but the Captain spoke first.

"At ease," Ivant said in Basic. Despite the darkness in the room, he made no effort to turn up the lights via the touch panel. He smiled at Ezra, much like he so frequently smiled at the younger Navigators, and the young man seemed to sink back down into the cushion. Then, the human’s gaze canted up, meeting Thrawn's. The smile wasn't entirely gone. "Please," He said, directing that familiar drawl and those warm brown eyes at the Chiss, waving him off, directing him to stay where he was at the Jedi’s side.

For a moment, Thrawn could almost pretend there was no bad blood, no uncomfortable tension between them. Then he blinked, and logic won out. "As you wish," Thrawn said tightly. Something in him coiled, making him feel uneasy.

There were three mugs between his two gloved hands. He placed the first before Ezra. Caf, Thrawn realized. Ezra looked down at it slowly, then back up. Ivant tilted his head. "It's way too hot to drink now," He said kindly, hardly expecting Ezra to take it. "Let it cool a while."

The young Jedi’s eyes were hazy and dark, unfocused, but he nodded slightly before a tremor ran down his spine. Ivant didn’t press him on it, nor did he comment when Ezra pulled the blankets wrapped around him closer. Thrawn watched his charge with an appraising eye. Bridger was a special case. He had very little parenting or security in his upbringing. It made people protective of him.

Ezra Bridger also had a big heart and a desire to help. Thrawn clearly felt somewhat indebted to him. Ivant separated the remaining mugs, balanced precariously in the crook of an arm pressed against his side and in his non-dominant hand. Eli moved that one to his dominant hand as to prevent spillage of the last one and held it out to Thrawn, handle out.

He eyed it warily, lips thinning. “You did not need to-”

“I did,” Vanto interrupted. His eyebrows went up as he silently appraised the Chiss. “You think he’d talk to me like this without you present?”

Something about that made the discomforting sensation in Thrawn’s core burn. Still, he kept his voice without inflection, true neutral. “He would do as ordered, Captain. As would I.”

Thrawn took the mug and sat. Ivant stepped back, leaning casually against the opposite wall.

It was true. Thrawn was on thin ice, as the humans would say. It was an appropriate expression, considering his home world. Thrawn has been on thin ice for a long, long time. Ivant studied him with his brown eyes, pupils dilated to allow him to see as much as possible in the dark. He did not feel any embarrassment, there was no heat in his neck, or cheeks, or ears. He was dark in the spectrum that Thrawn could see with his superior biology. He felt lightyears away instead of just outside arms’ reach.

“If I make you that uncomfortable,” The human finally said, his voice lilting with the accent, soft and round, but just as firm, “I’ll leave. The kid can message me when he’s up for talking.”

Thrawn rose sharply, eyes flashing in momentary outrage. Ivant did not back down, stepping forward as well. He held his mug of tea between both hands. “I do not understand,” Thrawn said. He spoke again, but this time in Sy Bisti. Tension made itself known in his forehead. “I do not understand where I stand with you.”

Ivant looked into his mug as though it would hold some secret answer. Then, he lifted his head. He answered in the language he’d been spoken to. “I am your Captain.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

The beginnings of a smile passed through his face, smoothed out before it ever became anything more than a quirk of his lips. Mirth. “We are not the same beings we were at the start of all this,” Vanto said. “We have both had to make difficult decisions.”

“I am not proud of what I did, not all of it.”

From where they stood, Vanto looking up at him, Thrawn saw his eyes in totality and unobscured: a deep brown, like Corellian cinnamon and tang bark. He no longer held himself like his lack of height was a disadvantage. His chest was pushed out enough to be open, his stance comfortable but lacking arrogance. He did not yield, his stance did not relent, but something in his eyes eased.

“I know, Thrawn.”

Neither of them looked away. An impossible urge crossed through the Chiss’s logical rationale. A desire to reach for the man in front of him. A desire to make a connection. Thrawn wrapped his unoccupied hand around the warm mug of tea, threading his fingers together lest he be struck by yet another irrational proclivity.

Vanto tilted his head. Thrawn saw the lines beneath his eyes, the way the outer corners of them crinkled when half-smiled, bittersweetly. He wanted to dissect each and every micromovement, each like a brushstroke on an evolving canvas. He wanted to ask questions and analyze Vanto's responses, wanted to sit here and drink tea and pretend this was something it wasn't. That it was fine. That they were something more than allies. That-

The Captain's comm chimed on his belt and the shrill beep in the otherwise silent room made Ezra jerk, the mug of caf sloshing when he kicked the table. It brought the young Jedi back to himself, and with an easy wave of his hand he saved the mug before it went crashing to the floor.

The moment, whatever it had been, whatever it might have been trying to be, was broken.

“Ivant,” Vanto said, pulling the device around him.

“I need you aboard the _Steadfast_ in twenty minutes,” Ar’alani said.

“Make it forty. I’m with the Jedi.”

She tutted, not thrilled about the suggestion. “How does he fare?”

The edge in Vanto’s tone was icy. His Cheunh was flawless, Thrawn realized not for the first time. It sounded like he’d been speaking it for his entire life, not four years, give or take. He dared to push at his admiral. “Not well. Care to explain to me why I’m debating sending him to medical?”

“Recall your first encounter, Captain,” Ar’alani didn’t sound remotely concerned. “He will be fine.”

“Yeah,” Ivant rolled his eyes, half amused as he recalled wryly, “I remember. I don’t think you let me rinse my mouth out before you debriefed me.”

“I was prepared to debrief in that tiny refresher in your quarters,” The Admiral’s voice hid a sardonic sense of humor between words. “You may have thirty minutes. If you are not in my office within the hour-”

“I’ll be there. Ivant out.” He switched the comm off and turned to the Jedi. He gave a tentative smile, trying to shake off his funk. It would be a few days before he’d be back to normal, but he’d be alright, Ivant knew. Thrawn had dealt with this before. He knew what to do, and he wasn’t Ezra’s only resource aboard the _Compass_.

Ezra coughed nervously. “Did she really?” He asked thickly, testing each word on his tongue. He spoke in Cheunh, and Thrawn could admit he was impressed that the young man bounced back so quickly.

“Yes,” Ivant gave him a gentle smirk, a little wry. “I’m better for it. But that’s not what you need. We’re going to talk about it. Your reaction isn’t entirely uncommon.”

“I’ve never,” Ezra looked down at his hands, sucking a drip of caf off his finger. “I think I’d rather face Vader.”

Thrawn’s head swivelled around fast, his response terse. “You jest.”

Ezra did not. “At least I can understand Vader’s motives. They-”

Vanto interrupted their bickering. He had a schedule to keep, “‘There are things in the universe that are simply and purely evil. A warrior does not seek to understand them, or to compromise with them.’” Thrawn exhaled sharply, drawing the Captain’s gaze. “‘He seeks only to destroy them.’”

“Eli-”

Ivant’s eyes narrowed, and the dark, serious look was back. He addressed Ezra, “Starting tomorrow, you will meet me in the training facilities on the second level two hours before first shift. I will teach you how to fight a Grysk.” He considered Thrawn. That slightest bit of warmth in his eyes was gone, like their former discussion hadn't happened at all. “You are welcome to join us, if your duties allow.”

Thrawn frowned, eyes curiously blank, even for him. Ezra still hadn’t moved from the huddle of the two blankets wrapped around him. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but he still felt shaky and on-edge as he rose. “Yes, Captain,” Ezra said. His voice wasn’t as wobbly as he’d expected.

The Chiss swallowed, then nodded. He did not speak. It earned him a curious, concerned look from Ezra. But Ivant didn't comment on it, didn't rebuke him or draw attention to it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay and speak with you longer," Ivant said in Ezra's direction, but something about that seemed off to him. His voice didn't have that quality to it - like speaking to a student, that parental, teaching tone he used with Ezra and the Navigators. Ezra suspected he was speaking to Thrawn.

But it didn't matter. Ivant was gone in seconds, twelve steps in a purposeful stride, the door hissing shut behind him.

Thrawn lowered himself back onto the cushion beside Ezra. They sipped at their drinks in silence until there were only dregs left, and they'd long since gone cold.

"While you were gone," The Chiss began, "Vah'nya allowed me to see an old colleague I served with in the Empire." He still cradled the mug between his hands, as if not sure what to do with them otherwise. "She defected," He clarified carefully. "She did not go to the Rebellion, though she brought news of the Emperor's product, Stardust."

Ezra turned to look at him. "Do I want to know?" He asked.

"I wouldn't tell you now if I thought it would make things worse," Thrawn reasoned. "But I would tell you. You deserve to know."

Nodding, Ezra looked down at his hands, tangled together while his forearms rested on his knees. "They won?"

"They did. I inquired about your friends, but there was not much information. They did not play a large role in the battle."

"Thanks for trying," Ezra's words were weighted with gratitude. "Seriously," He said, as though Thrawn might not have noticed the first time around. The Chiss had. He simply hadn't finished speaking.

"I was given the impression that the Captain would give you more details. However, I did learn why General Syndulla was not more involved, if you wish-"

"Of course I do!" Ezra turned on the cushion, facing Thrawn's right side. He no longer trembled from his earlier experience, his body tense with anticipation. "Anything," He said desperately.

"She was with child," Thrawn said. "A son."

Ezra flopped back against the couch, staring up at the unimpressive ceiling, tinged gray in the dark. For a moment, he layed in the strange, awkward position he'd thrown himself back in on the remaining free cushions. His breaths came soft but smooth. Deep, and centering.

Thrawn almost wondered if the Jedi had fallen asleep. He'd certainly come upon the young man sleeping in creative and very uncomfortable situations.

"Thank you," Ezra said. "For telling me. And for asking."

"You are welcome," Thrawn said. Then, "Jarrus was the father?"

Ezra propped himself up in his elbows, looking at the side of Thrawn's face. "They were best friends. Partners, in and out of battle," He said as if trying to craft a relatable expression for the Chiss, then added, "They loved each other."

Thrawn turned to look at Ezra, not entirely sure what to say. He was no stranger to the concept of love. It was not far from certain aspects of loyalty, dedication, or devotion. Though he doubted very much that he'd felt it, even in his youth, something in the Commander's gut burned at the unspoken implication in Ezra's words. He thought of Eli Vanto’s cool-dark gaze looking up at him, of ‘I know, Thrawn,’ of the way he held himself like a man who finally started to understand what he was worth.

He never did get an answer to his question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Vah’nya pulls Ezra aside. Ivant gives Ezra some tips on fighting the Grysk.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Time: Vah’nya pulls Ezra aside. Ivant gives Ezra some tips on fighting the Grysk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 8/30/2020

Ezra didn’t sleep. He couldn’t. He was too tightly wound. After two hours of staring at his ceiling reeling from the day’s events, he slipped quietly into the hall. The door to Thrawn's sleeping quarters was open, the green indicator light spilling into the common space though the lights were off and the faint glow of Chiss eyes weren’t present in the dark. He must be asleep, Ezra thought, though he'd obviously left his door open to be sure he'd hear if Ezra had any issues overnight.

Knowing that, as silently as he dared, Ezra slipped out into the hall, using the Force to keep the hydraulic door from whooshing with sound in an attempt not to wake his roommate. He waited outside the door for a moment focusing. Nothing. No sound or disturbances. He exhaled, beginning to walk, no true destination in mind.

Thrawn had told him about Hera in an attempt to give him something positive to focus on. Ezra appreciated that more than he thought Thrawn could ever truly know. But in the face of something so dark, it made him fear. It drove him to terror, to think of something like the Grysk unleashed upon more innocents, of them reaching his home, his family.

It was something so evil, like the brief glimpses he’d had behind the Emperor’s facade. He shuddered and walked without any real direction. He took the lift up and down, walking each level’s halls. He wandered, knowing his way around the ship well enough to shift his attention inward.

Somewhere around the third or fourth pass through some of the corridors, a door opened behind him after he’d passed. “Your thoughts are loud, Ezra’Bridger,” Senior Navigator Vah’nya said in mild Basic, thick with both sleep and accent.

Ezra flinched, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry,” He said. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It is alright,” Vah’nya said. “You encountered a formidable enemy today,” She said. The way she spoke made Ezra feel like he was ten years younger than her, not three or four. “Do you wish… to talk about it?” Her glowing red gaze softened.

Sheepishly, Ezra said, “I only fought three of them, and I barely-”

“They are a dangerous, adaptable enemy. Your powers were very useful. The Admiral was impressed, though I doubt she said as much,” A smile curled the Navigator’s lips as she straightened out the messiness of her hair. “You will be trained, I heard as well.”

“Yeah,” Ezra said. “In a few hours. Captain Ivant said he’d show me.”

“Then you should sleep,” Vah’nya suggested.

He knew that, but, “I can’t.”

Nodding, the Navigator stepped back into her quarters, gesturing further inside. “I understand this,” She said. “Come.”

She disappeared further into her quarters, procuring a portable kettle that she filled from the kitchenette sink. Her quarters were far more luxurious than the ones he and Thrawn shared, not that Ezra was complaining. She switched to Cheunh, “I promise I will not give you that tea you hate. I only keep some here for Eli. I do not know why he likes it. It tastes like dirty water and iceberries.” They shared a grin.

“Thrawn likes it too,” He said. “Ivant brought him some earlier, while I was...” He frowned.

Vah’yna gestured to a short couch and a reclining chair that looked to be the piece of furniture most frequently used. Ezra chose the corner of a sofa with a deep blue blanket over the back of it. “It sounds like you have some binetim to share,” She said.

Ezra tried to figure out the word while the Navigator poured out hot water into two pale blue mugs. She placed one in front of Ezra before curling her fingers around her own and tucking her legs beneath her as she sat down on the recliner. The tea definitely smelled spicy and invigorating, but somehow soothing at the same time. It was more like the kind he’d remembered Kanan drinking, and that was enough to make his shoulders unwind from some of the tension that ratched them up towards his neck and chin.

“It means ‘gossip,’” Vah’nya smirked as she said the word in Basic. “What happened?”

“I was mostly out of it. But they were talking. I didn’t know the language.”

“Ah,” Taking a sip of tea, Vah’nya shook her head. “Sy Bisti. That was how they became linked, you know. Mitth’raw’nuruodo always struggled to learn Basic. Or, at least that’s how the Admiral tells it. Eli said Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s Basic was too good for him to need a translator, but he is too modest,” She laughed before focusing back on the topic at hand. “Was he there for long?”

“The Admiral called him away. I don’t really know.”

“Yes, they had to yell at me,” She smirked. “That is how I heard about your new lessons.”

“At you? What did you do?”

She shrugged, a playful yet elegant gesture. “I am too careless. They remind me that I am young and reckless all the time. I think they forget what it is like.”

“I know what you mean,” Ezra said, sipping his tea. It was good. “So why do you care about what Captain Ivant and Thrawn do?”

Vah’nya pursed her lips. “Ezra,” She said. When he blinked steadily at her, she sighed. “You are hopeless, Jedi. You can feel the beings around you far better than a Chiss. Surely you felt something.”

“I mean, when I focus on them," He agreed. "But I wasn't really focusing on anything." He did straighten a bit. "You think there's something going on."

"I am Mitth'raw'nuruodo's closest connection to Eli. He has not asked, but he wants to know."

"That's the third time you called him that."

"Eli? That is his name," Vah'nya reminded Ezra.

"His given name, that nobody here uses."

Vah'nya adjusted to sit sideways atop the recliner, one long leg pulled up to her chest. "We are close because of our time spent together, but, even before that, I was his first ally among the Chiss."

"I didn't know."

"His first year was difficult. He missed Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

"They were friends, then?" The Navigator gave him a flat stare. Ezra balked, "What? When I suggested it, Thrawn acted like he didn't know!"

Rolling her eyes shifted the glow of red from her cheeks to her forehead and back again. "They are hopeless," She said, exasperated. "Will Mitth'raw'nuruodo join you for your training session?"

"I think so," Ezra said. "Ivant invited him."

"It will be interesting," She said, then, "May I join you?"

-/

Thrawn wasn't surprised by the lack of Jedi in their quarters when he woke. Trusting he would adhere to instructions, the Chiss set out to prepare for his early morning. That he hadn't heard Bridger was ennerving, considering Thrawn felt like he'd hardly slept at all for all of his tossing and turning. That was unlike him. Though, it had been a very tumultuous few days. Faro, then Bridger, then Vanto. Thrawn let himself into the refresher and reached for the tablets he knew were kept on the counter. There was no denying his oncoming headache.

With far more complete access to the Chiss's archives aboard the ship, Thrawn had spent the majority of his spare time pouring over the latest art and catching up on current events. The Chiss were a proud people. Their shortcomings were often masked behind events and festivals, something bright and gleaming to hide the fragility or cracks underneath. Of course, sometimes an event was simply that, nothing sinister or devious behind it, but outside of holidays or annual traditions, it was rarely so. Thrawn was better at picking out his own peoples' patterns than the Empire's, though he suspected he would never entirely master the political nuances.

Interestingly enough - or maybe not interestingly, on this he wasn't sure - Vanto's "bedside" promotion to Captain, an unusual event in the first place, as one usually attained and held the rank of Commander within the Chiss ranks for at least five, but up to ten years, was nowhere within Chiss news streams. Vanto being a part of their military, while highly unorthodox, likely didn't sit well with some of the more well-to-do socialite families of the Aristocra.

The nature of Vanto's work, given his unique skill set, was of great use to the CDF. If there was a pattern, some way to identify Navigators within certain family ancestries, or some trend in the rise and set of their abilities, Thrawn knew Vanto would find them. He was not like Nightswan, a player on Thrawn's own level. Vanto's intelligence was subtle. He was a late bloomer, not because of stupidity but simply because he was not nurtured or put into the correct situations.

Thrawn was starting to think that perhaps his initial presumption had been incorrect: Nightswan had refused his offer to join the Chiss, thus Vanto had been sent as a stand-in. Vanto had been a different kind of loss at Thrawn's side that would prove valuable to his people, but not the revolutionary genius he suspected they would value most of all.

While wholly the truth behind his reasoning at the time, that particular line of thought left Thrawn unsettled as he left his quarters. He had identified strengths in Vanto, had done his best to give those strengths experience and exercise, the necessary elements to grow. But in Thrawn's wake, Vanto truly had been reduced to collateral damage and a consolation prize.

Not that one would know such a thing now.

Now, it was Vanto who would be the one to show Ezra Bridger, a human Jedi, a boy who had outsmarted him - and that still rankled a little, even if Thrawn knew it was for the best - how to fight the Grysk. Now, Eli Vanto outranked him in the CDF, despite being more than ten years his junior. Now, the Chiss lieutenants who served their human captain did so with pride. His humanity was not a weakness to the Chiss who answered to him. It was a quirk, yes, but an advantage. It was inspiring. Though there had been few times he and Ezra were on the bridge during a mission - Ezra's studies, and Vanto's unwillingness to allow Thrawn closer than occupying the same starship considered - he had seen glimpses of his command style.

Eli worked just as hard as his crew. He listened and taught those who served with him, and his passion was rewarded with loyalty and results. His insight and eye for patterns, concealed clues, all of it was honed, and frankly, impressive.

It was everything Thrawn had ever seen in him. A sharp mind, a warrior's spirit, and a kind, just heart. But it was more than that. Before, he'd seen Eli as a consolation prize: Not possessing the overwhelming genius of Nightswan, nor the tactical skills he himself boasted throughout his career. Thrawn had been a fool to ever think, even for the briefest of moments, that he had settled when sending this man to the Ascendancy.

The training rooms his datapad directed him to were not any of the usual ones frequented by the Navigators. In fact, Thrawn suspected it was specifically used for purposes like these: specialized training and testing, private supplemental lessons. He stepped into the antechamber. The door closed quietly behind him. There was a large panel of two way transparisteel, so spectators could view the session by toggling the panel on the wall. It was not activated now, though he could hear the sound of stick-fighting through the open doors, one on each side of the antechamber, framing the viewing window.

Ezra was standing in the far doorway, watching with interest. He tilted his head to look at Thrawn, gave him a curt nod, then looked back into the room. Vah’nya’s grunt of exertion, the sound of training sticks smacking thickly against each other rapidly giving way to the sound of quick, light footfalls. Over Ezra’s shoulder, Thrawn saw the Senior Navigator get thrown back, losing her grip on her weapon. She glared up and across the room.

“Now what?” Vanto asked curtly. Thrawn blinked, surprised to hear that he was already there.

“They’ve been at this for almost an hour now,” Ezra said softly, interrupting Thrawn’s thoughts.

Vah’nya rose quickly, body coiled in a defensive pose, coiled like a predator waiting to strike. It was an unarmed combat style taught in the Chiss military, an advanced position. All Navigators were trained in self defense and basic combat as they reached their seventh year, with very elementary instruction before that, but it was never used. For a Navigator well into adulthood like Vah’nya, it made sense that she would be expected to be capable of the same skills expected of other soldiers. When her Sight left her, she would need to be proficient to continue her career within the military’s structure.

Though, that wasn’t all it was. Thrawn saw the narrowed gleam of her irises, the glow of her eyes illuminating the sheen of sweat on her face. Her training uniform had shorter sleeves and displayed the scarring Thrawn had noted on her arm. Both arms bore scarring to a degree. They looked like latticework from afar. Purposeful. Indicative of torture. He didn’t doubt she harbored scars elsewhere. Torture did not mean access to medicines like bacta that could heal almost any being without fail.

The Chiss style of combat was aggressive, nothing held back. Endurance was built with experience and pushing past one’s limits. The movements were swift and harsh, beautiful in a dangerous, practical way. Navigator Vah’nya rolled out of Thrawn’s view (Ezra had hardly yielded enough to allow him to see much of the room), so he decided to mimic the younger man’s pose and take up residence in the other doorway.

Vanto wore his full uniform except for his outermost tunic. It was cast off in a corner of the training room. His breaths were even and deep, mildly labored but not panting like Vah’nya’s. His features were still completely smooth, though his eyes were sharp and alert despite their inherent darkness, their inability to see in the infrared. Without the thicker material of the outer tunic, Thrawn saw corded muscle. Vanto would never be hulking or giant, but it was clear that he was at or near peak physical condition. He was still of moderately lean physique, though his movements held the poise and grace indicative of practice.

He even fought like a Chiss. Thrawn felt his stomach warm with pride.

Vah’nya was clearly outmatched, and she knew it. Even so, she continued fighting until Vanto levied his weapon at her throat and her back was against the wall. When he stepped back, he rubbed his chin with a wry smile.

“Bet that’ll bruise,” He commented mildly of her landed blows. “You didn’t hold back.”

“As it should,” Vah’nya said primly. “We have not sparred in a while.”

The Captain hummed. “Add some more sessions to my calendar. You never mind scheduling anything else without my say-so.”

She grinned. “Perhaps I will,” She said with a smirk, before approaching Ezra with a nod. “I’ve… softened-” She looked to Vanto for confirmation of the phrase. “I’ve softened him up for you,” She quipped, more sure of herself at the end.

“Let me know when you’re warmed up,” Vanto said. He inclined his head to Thrawn. “What have you told him about their fighting style?”

“They do not betray their origins,” Thrawn said neutrally. “His education on them is exactly the same as the Navigators.”

Ezra agreed, pushing off from the second door frame to enter the room. “They’re terrifying.”

“They are,” Captain Ivant agreed. “They prefer lightning guns and slugthrowers - I know you wanted a lightsaber, but apparently they only melt the pellets they shoot you with.” He circles the large room slowly, Ezra following his motions and settling into an open, defensive stance, his back to Thrawn. The Captain dipped low, patting his ankle. “Higher ranking ones carry a ceremonial blade in their boots on the right side.”

Thrawn’s gaze snapped to Vanto. He produced the weapon. It was small, compact and dangerous. Vah’nya clenched her fists and did not flinch by will alone. “It’s what made these,” She said, indicating her arms.

“If they capture you, knowing you've got the Force, they will attempt to manipulate your mind. They will not drug you. They may use pain to lower your defenses.” He stepped forward and held out the blade. It was made of no metal Ezra or Thrawn had ever seen.

“How did you get this?” Ezra asked, speaking the question on Thrawn’s mind.

Vanto looked into Ezra’s eyes. “We were their captives, as I’ve been informed you know.” His gaze pinned Thrawn for a moment then swung back to the Jedi. “By what had to be done.” He turned his back and slipped the blade back into the concealed sheath in his boot. “Your combat skills are satisfactory, but you need work. Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo will be able to help you with that. I will show you how a Grysk fights when you press them in close combat.”

Thrawn couldn’t help the bitterness that curled in his lungs at Vanto's cool professionalism, like the previous night hadn’t happened at all. The Captain had not done anything wrong, he was being perfectly polite as usual. It just felt like their shared experiences had been nothing. Things should be better this way, he tried telling himself. Vanto was doing everything Thrawn had hoped he’d do for the Ascendancy and then some. This should have been the singular bright spot in an otherwise failed mission, but, try as he might, Thrawn could not convince good sense and rationality to win out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Un'hee is displeased. Ezra stumbles upon a truth. Thrawn forces himself to think logically.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Un'hee is displeased. Ezra stumbles upon a truth. Thrawn forces himself to think logically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 8/30/2020

“Well?” Vah’nya asked, waiting for Ezra after his training session. At her side was Un’hee, who seemed to bounce with energy despite the ridiculously early hour.

The Jedi pulled a face. “Later,” He grunted.

Un’hee patted his arm sympathetically. “Eli beat you up pretty bad, huh?”

Shrugging, Ezra rubbed at the spot Un’hee had touched. He probably would bruise, but it wasn’t anything Eli did. He looked at Vah’nya who frowned, peering into the training room Ezra had just left. “I think I know what you mean,” He told Vah’nya, and hoped she understood his meaning.

“I-”

“Good morning, Senior Navigator Vah’nya,” Thrawn said evenly. He nodded to her, and then cast his gaze down to briefly regard the much smaller Chiss beside her. “Navigator Un’hee.” He turned on his heel to depart.

“Wait, you won’t be joining us?” Un’hee asked, voice twisting just short of a whine. It certainly had been the way things had gone for the last three weeks. Ezra pointedly looked away. Thrawn paused, looking back with only the faintest sliver of his gaze. Usually Thrawn never failed to meet a person’s eyes.

“I have other matters to attend to,” The Commander said. “My apologies.”

He didn’t sound remotely sorry, Un’hee thought. In fact, he sounded almost... scattered. The junior Navigator frowned at his back as he left. Then, when he turned the corner, she turned back to Vah’nya and Ezra. To the human, she asked, “What happened?”

“Un’hee-” Ezra broke off.

Captain Ivant exited the training room. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she spun, beaming up at him. “Good morning,” He greeted her, voice soft. “Why don’t you three go on to breakfast?”

“Yes, Captain.” Vah’nya agreed easily, casting a pointed gaze to Un’hee. “Come along.”

“Go on without me,” The younger Chiss crossed her arms. In her most demure tone, she inquired, “Captain, may I have a moment?”

“Un’hee!” Vah’nya snapped.

The Captain exhaled. “Sorry, Un’hee. I have a meeting to go to.”

“Fine,” She said bluntly, then demanded, “Just tell me what you did to him.”

“Navigator Un’hee,” Vah’nya placed a firm hand on her shoulders. “This isn’t appropriate.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Ivant said firmly. His gaze landed on Ezra. “Someone needs to learn how to focus and not be distracted by what happens around them.”

Ezra flushed. “Sorry, Captain.”

“It’s a good lesson. Force, Sight, however you want to call it aside. In a real battle, that would’ve been the end of you.” He nodded curtly to the youngest among them. “Go with Vah’nya, Un’hee.”

Un’hee glowered up at him, her discontent palpable.

“Don’t give me that look, Navigator.”

She crossed her arms and scowled at that, nostrils flaring.

Vah'nya took a deep breath, preparing to reprimand her sister in arms again, but Ivant waved her off, taking a knee so that he was eye to eye with the smaller girl. "I will check in with you after mid-shift."

"I don't like it," The Navigator said. Ivant opened his arms and she wrapped her lanky ones around his neck, seeking comfort for emotions that were not fully her own. With her face buried against his shoulder, she murmured, "I can feel-"

"I know." Ivant squeezed once, whispering into her ear, "I don't like it either."

Ivant inevitably left them after securing Un'hee's promise to mind Vah'nya's instruction in the matter. Only when they were left alone did the trio of Force sensitives make their way to the mess hall.

-/

"So what happened?" It wasn't Un'hee asking, to Ezra's surprise. Vah'nya arched an eyebrow, her glowing eyes narrowed in equal parts suspicion and anticipation.

They sat in the far corner, not their usual table in the midst of the other Navigators and crewsman. Typically when Thrawn was with them, they sat off to one side of the long row of tables near the starboard exit, so that he was not surrounded by the rest of the Navigator children. Not that Thrawn was particularly sociable, the man was more or less a hermit. How he and Ezra seemed to get on so well was strange. The occasional conversations Thrawn had with the rest of the crew were to do with art, recent news, and occasionally battle strategies. Thrawn preferred cultivating his wallflower persona, immersing himself in the goings on around him unobtrusively. Even though Ezra talked to most of the crew and Navigators, Thrawn almost always had the same - and more - information.

Ezra leaned forward and Un’hee scooched closer on the bench, gripping the edges of the table for support. Her toes only touched the floor if she pointed them, so she swung them back and forth, brow furrowing in anticipated concentration. In front of her, her tray went untouched.

“I can’t explain it,” The Jedi said. “I was sparring with Ivant, and it was fine. I actually managed to land a hit - those extra sessions Thrawn’s been giving me are paying off, even if my body aches all the time - and then I felt this,” Ezra trailed off, looking to Vah’nya. “In the Force,” He clarified in Basic before switching back to his passable Cheunh, “It was like,” Ezra paused, thinking. “Agony. Like someone had stabbed me in the chest. It was like a blow.”

“It was Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Un’hee whispered.

“I think so,” Ezra agreed, solemnly. He didn’t have any other idea, because at the time he’d been shocked still by the weight of the emotion, so used to the endless white noise that was most Chiss in the Force. It was soothing and placid, like a glass sea. Thrawn was usually muffled. Though, when it came to Captain Ivant...

“Why?” Un’hee asked, watching Vah’nya pick at the edge of her sleeve.

“What happened before that?” Vah’nya asked him.

Considering it in his mind’s eye, Ezra closed both of his luminous blue ones, focusing inward. “I’d landed a solid hit, and Captain Ivant grappled me. I managed to catch hold of his tunics and get them part-way over his head.”

“I see,” Vah’nya murmured. “Where was Mitth’raw’nuruodo in relationship to you?”

“He was in the doorway, watching.” Ezra blinked twice, refocusing his gaze on his half-finished tray. “Captain Ivant was between us when I got up, and that’s when I felt it.”

Un’hee bit her lip and pooled her hands in her lap. “Oh,” She said softly. “He saw them,” She said. “I’ve been waiting for that.”

“Scars,” Ezra said without needing more information. “Like yours?” He eyed Vah’nya. “I couldn’t see them, I was facing his front.”

“No,” Vah’nya frowned. “Far worse. Un’hee told you how Eli was made a Captain,” She reminded the human. “I am not sure humans are meant to survive such damage. It is ugly. That is why he has always sparred with you in near-full dress.”

“He was fine with your scars,” Ezra pointed out. “Why-” The Jedi caught his breath. “I’m such an idiot,” He said. Vah’nya raised one eyebrow in an elegant arch, as if asking if he’d like to proceed. “They were friends. Thrawn sent him here. He feels responsible.”

“Amongst other things,” Vah’nya said cryptically.

“What other things?” Ezra narrowed his eyes when Vah’nya chose not to respond. “What happened that was so bad? They were friends,” He repeated.

“Bad things,” Vah’nya said, and Un’hee shivered. “Things I am forbidden to talk about.”

“What happened with the Grysk that captured you,” Ezra said slowly. “It,” He swallowed. “It wasn’t Thrawn’s fault, was it? We weren’t anywhere near there. I don’t-”

Vah’nya looked away. Ezra fell silent.

Un’hee pushed her uneaten tray toward the center of the table and whispered, “I never want something so horrible to happen again. That is why we must become stronger.”

-/

Thrawn paced. He was used to spending more time in his thoughts than out of them, after all, he was both a warrior and a tactician. Still, this evaded him. Rationally, logically, this should not have impacted him to the point where the tuning fork that was Ezra Bridger was able to sense his sharp emotional distress. Frankly, Thrawn did not believe he should have had such a fierce response to begin with. He needed to see this tactically. He could not afford his emotions to skew the data. With that in mind, he stopped himself from pacing, closed himself in his small room and sat at the small desk. He steepled his fingers in front of his chin, elbows braced upon the top of the workspace and willed himself to think.

Scars were scars. All warriors had them, be they large or small. They were stories. Lessons. Warnings to potential enemies and maps to possible weaknesses to be exploited.

And he had known Vanto had them. Un’hee had told him what happened, how he and Vah’nya had been captives of the Grysk. He had seen Vah’nya’s scars. She had told him that Vanto saved her from the worst of it.

But yet, when faced with them - some, not all, it was apparent there were more hidden from view - Thrawn’s rational mind had seized. It was as though logic could not reconcile the young, bright-eyed Cadet Vanto he’d known since their time at Royal Imperial with this man, the stony faced Captain Ivant who showed only glimpses of his former self. The torture he must have endured to have such wicked lines carved into his skin, deep, jagged lines that looked plotted out to target vital organs, was unthinkable. All of them seemed insignificant compared to the ugly, marbled scarring on his left side. Thrawn had only been able to see part of it, for the evidence of his injury wrapped around to the Captain’s front, creeping up like a deadly flower, likely toward the heart. That looked like an injury caused by a greater weapon or an explosive of some kind. The overall wound was littered with smaller, deeper marks indicative of shrapnel.

It was a vicious thing. Cold, heartless and calculating, indicative of Grysk tactics. But it was not the only sort of torture the Grysks employed. In fact, it was a less common tactic. The Grysks had a tendency to mentally wound their captives. In cases like Un’hee, who had spent years in their captivity, it could lead to mental health issues, like the occasional panic attacks she suffered. Lesser Navigators, Scratchlings, and a myriad of other sentient species had lost their sanity altogether, or been manipulated into assisting their captors as if it were of their own free will.

Vah’nya’s wounds indicated that the Grysks had wanted information of some kind from her and that she had not bowed to them. Had they turned to Vanto? Had he been used against her? Or had his honor and duty demanded that he place himself as her shield? That is what his people would have demanded. Thrawn did not doubt for a moment that Vanto would die willingly for a Navigator of the Chiss Ascendancy.

The Grysks were intelligent enough to torture him and use that physical damage to weigh upon Vah’nya’s mental state. Whatever she had been hiding must have been of the utmost importance for Vanto to be tortured in such a way when it became clear that pain would not break the Navigator herself. Humans were not a superior race to the Chiss in terms of pain tolerance. It would be easier to break her impressionable heart by exploiting a beloved comrade.

But why? What was so important? What had the Grysks wanted? The obvious goal, of course, was to demolish the Chiss, to take over their worlds and enslave them in body and mind, then dispose of them when they’d been stripped of their value.

It was Un’hee’s words that he recalled with a sudden, striking clarity. Vah’nya had not been meant to go on the mission that led to their capture. That was the missing piece. There was a reason in this detail, he need only find it.

The outer door to the suite slid open with a muffled, metallic hiss. Bridger’s footfalls were near silent but audible across the tiled floor. He paused eight strides in, and faced Thrawn’s door, waiting. He did not knock.

“I know you heard me come in,” The Jedi said. His voice held something tense and coiled.

“I did,” Thrawn said loudly enough to be heard through the closed door. He rose and toggled the release to open the door to his quarters, returning to his desk chair as Ezra followed him into the space.

“You need to talk to I- Vanto. Eli. Whatever you call him.”

“Bridger-”

“No. Hear me out.” Ezra perched himself at the foot of Thrawn’s pristinely made bunk, never once breaking eye contact. “I was speaking to Vah’nya and Un’hee. About what you saw.”

The narrowed gaze from Thrawn was harrowing. Even still, Ezra did not lose his nerve. “And what did the three of you deduce from such a thing?”

“I don’t know what they took from it other than that you felt bad,” Ezra admitted. “But I got something out of them.”

At that, Thrawn stiffened, curiosity piqued. “And what did you get from them?”

“Two things, technically.” Ezra placed his palms flat on his thighs, just above his knees. “One: This Navigator program didn’t exist until after Ivant and Vah’nya escaped from the Grysks and their Scratchlings.”

“That is common knowledge. This project is a development program designed to better prepare Navigators for their assignments, and strengthen their skills. The development of a new program is paramount at certain intervals to assure success.”

“Okay, fine.” Ezra shoved Thrawn’s unwillingness to consider that something was awry about this to the side. He’d meditate on it later. “Second, I found out part of why they were on the mission that got them captured.” At this, Ezra looked a bit hesitant.

Thrawn inclined his head, a benign gesture that welcomed him to continue.

“It had something to do with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Thrawn tells Ezra a story. Un’hee takes matters into her own hands.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Thrawn tells Ezra a story. Un’hee takes matters into her own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 8/30/2020

“Thrawn?” Ezra waved a hand in front of his face. He hadn't responded in nearly thirty seconds, withdrawing hard into his thoughts. When the Chiss finally blinked, he ventured, “You alright?”

“I am fine,” Thrawn said slowly. His tone was normal, and his face was characteristically expressionless. It was his eyes that betrayed him. “I have much to think about,” He said. “Thank you for informing me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ezra said, kicking off his boots beside Thrawn’s bed in an act of courtesy while ignoring his obvious dismissal. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to meditate in here.” There was a spark to the Force-sensitive human’s eyes that said he’d be sticking to Thrawn, whether Thrawn liked it or not.

“As you wish.”

The lack of a stern refusal or glare, even the slightest tick of his mouth to indicate his displeasure did not come. Ezra thought that was rather telling, as much as the shock radiating off Thrawn in the Force. Ezra kneeled at the edge of Thrawn’s bunk and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and preparing himself to sink into the familiar waters of meditation.

Thrawn was not a being who slumped, but when Ezra reached out with the Force, he felt the pressure of the older man's tumultuous emotions pressing down upon him like a physical weight. This, Ezra realized, was more than just friendship. His feelings of despair and responsibility were overwhelming. Thrawn saw himself as a leader. A commanding officer. His futility hit like a tsunami, a wave that threatened to sweep Thrawn away with it.

A moment more, Ezra reflected on him in the Force. "I think you should talk to him," He said, keeping his eyes closed.

The only sound in the room was their breathing. Thrawn might have looked Ezra's way, assessing him, but Ezra remained smooth and serene, mostly adrift in his abilities. It was a Kanan move, Ezra thought, offering up his own longing and grief to the Force. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that Thrawn was in fact staring at him.

"It was a military exercise and therefore classified. I am his subordinate. It would be inappropriate."

Ezra exhaled, then inhaled deep and even, willing himself to settle back within the flow of the Force. Thrawn didn't seem keen on continuing to speak, and so Ezra let his consciousness expand, feeling the threads and patterns that the Force cast around everything. He felt his own connections, the unlikely friendship he'd fostered with Thrawn, his relationships among the crew scattered about the levels above and below him. And like a beacon, he sensed the Navigators: clear and bright. Vah'nya, in particular, was like a light in a storm, brilliant and strong within the Force. She must be instructing the other Navigators, smaller, fledgling bright spots that twinkled like newborn stars.

He wasn't sure how long he drifted like that before bringing his mind back to his immediate surroundings, but Thrawn had recovered somewhat and was watching him tentatively when he surfaced from his meditative state. He seemed wary, Ezra thought, but composed.

"How would you go about it?" Thrawn asked him while he stretched his legs. "If our roles were reversed."

Ezra considered. Carefully, he said, "I'm not sure I have enough information to tell you."

That gave the Chiss pause, but only for a second. Seeming to make up his mind, Thrawn asked,"When is your next lesson?"

"This afternoon, after the mid-day meal. Fourteenth hour," He said, though he suspected Thrawn already knew. It was an out, if Ezra desired one. He did not.

"Very well," Thrawn replied. "I shall start at the beginning."

-/

It sounded like a holonovel, even in Thrawn's emotionally devoid tone, his recollection almost as neutral as a third party narrator. Or, at least, that's how it started. Thrawn spoke of Ivant as an impressionable, kind-hearted, but highly intelligent cadet who had been treated poorly and discredited due to his Wild Space heritage. Thrawn had seen something worth considering in him, and that one life had been of such little consequence to the Emperor that he'd given Vanto over like he was pet, not a person.

Ezra held back commentary or judgement even as Thrawn described upending Vanto's desired career path. "He would have been wasted on supply," Thrawn said. "He did not recognize his own abilities because he had never been put into a place to allow them to flourish. It mattered little to the Empire who was kept at my side, thus I was able to teach him to see and understand."

A lot of Thrawn's story was military procedure and function. Lessons Vanto had learned with Thrawn's guidance. Vanto's political insight, which Ezra read into as a shortcoming on Thrawn's part. He learned way too much about a rebel named Nightswan, whom Vanto and Ezra clearly agreed had been an obsession on Thrawn's part, even if he was rarely wrong about the man's motives and operations.

He learned a lot about Pryce, too. Pryce, who he'd always known was evil, but hearing about Batonn only solidified everything. In learning about her hand in Thrawn and Vanto's paths, Thrawn had touched on something else. He'd glossed over it, but Ezra hadn't been fooled.

"She saw Vanto as your weakness," Ezra mused. "He was being treated unfairly, and it was something you wanted, rather than needed. He could have stayed an Ensign but it would have been cruel."

"Yes, although it was Tarkin who facilitated the promotion," Thrawn recalled, "Pryce had been critical in removing that block. I am to believe it was one of Tarkin's enemies that caused the issue in the first place. Vanto seemed aware of it, though he did not share his concerns in this matter with me after it had been made clear I was recommending him for commendations at every opportunity."

"Huh," Ezra murmured. "Go on."

Thrawn did. Towards the end, something had changed about his relationship with Vanto. They had gone from Admiral and Commander to what Ezra would definitely classify as friends. Thrawn was proud of Vanto's progress, his ability to think tactically, while substantially different from Thrawn's art-inspired studies, was impressive to him. In many ways they understood each other, but they respected their differences and individual personalities. "He would become a great leader, someday," Thrawn said. "I knew there was no possible way for him to do so under me, and no way the Empire would take him seriously after a career at my back. And with Nightswan no longer an option, I decided to present him with an opportunity."

"What would you have done with Vanto if you had been able to send Nightswan here?"

Thrawn's lips thinned into a frown. "It is uncertain." One possibility, Thrawn reasoned, was that he would have seen Karyn Faro through to command her own fleet, and that he would have pushed for Vanto to be made his true second in command. He doubted it would be made so without extreme hardships and potential career suicide for one or both of them, now. Would conflicts have evolved similarly, otherwise? It was impossible to say.

Eventually he'd continued, giving a brief summary of Vader aboard the Chimaera after Atollon, of the Grysk and the Navigators, and then he'd moved on. There was no ill-will toward the Rebels or Ezra detected. It was strange, in a way, but Ezra didn't dwell on it.

There were more pressing matters.

"You gave him the TIE Defenders?" Here Ezra's voice rose sharply in disbelief.

"For a brief operation, yes," Thrawn confirmed silkily. "The pilots respected him as their Commander, and would heed his word as if it were my own."

"But he left the Empire."

"Technically, they knew he was on assignment. For all they knew, he was infiltrating their ranks at the Emperor's behest." Thrawn watched as Ezra frowned. "What is it?"

"You trusted him a lot," Ezra said.

"A commander should always have faith in his subordinates."

"More than that. That was a gamble, even if your loyalties always were more with the Chiss than the Empire. If something went wrong..."

"I knew it would not."

"But if it did?"

"I was prepared to deal with the fallout, but knew that if something went awry, Lieutenant Vanto was prepared for it."

"Hmm," Ezra said, and left Thrawn to finish his tale: his pride at Admiral Ar'alani promoting Vanto with the CDF, the Admiral's warning, and finally, the Emperor's ominous, ambiguous threat. The rest, Ezra knew first hand.

"Your questions," Thrawn encouraged, taking in his younger counterpart's contemplative stare. "Or conclusions."

"Well," Ezra paced in the small space as he put together his thoughts. "I still think you need to talk to him, man to man." He frowned. "But I also don't think that whatever happened with the Grysk was actually your fault. I mean, how could it be?"

"There are several possibilities, but they all seem highly unlikely. I suspect the Navigators were purposefully misleading you, and by extension, me."

"I caught on by reading their body language," Ezra admitted. Neither Navigator would confirm his suspicion, but they definitely didn't deny it. "I know some part of their mission had to do with you." Rubbing the back of his head, Ezra adds, "Though… I mean, it doesn't really matter what the reasons are. You feel responsible because you sent him here and something bad happened to him. You obviously care about him a lot." The Jedi paused. "What do you want out of all this?"

"Our dynamic has never been so… strained," Thrawn settled on, "Even in its infancy. I had hoped our friendship would continue, but I am starting to believe that is not in the realm of possibility."

Ezra sat back on the edge of the bed. Thrawn's hands dangled over the armrests of the chair. They met each other's eyes. "Things can't go back to how they were, though. I mean, he outranks you now. Whatever he's doing now with the Navigators appears to be a success."

"Perhaps he does not require my guidance," Thrawn considered. It should feel rewarding, there should be an element to pride in such a success. And yet...

The Chiss's voice had a jagged edge to it, rough and torn and raw. Ezra blinked once, then twice, staring as the dots connected. He exhaled slowly through his nose, then inhaled and braced himself for Thrawn's reaction.

"You wanted to know my conclusion," Ezra started, waiting for Thrawn to acknowledge him. He did, so Ezra spoke honestly. "I think you're in love with him."

-/

Navigator Un'hee was not an uncommon sight in the officer's lounge. Most of the time, she stuck to a corner of one of the smooth leather couches or the armchair nearest the overhead lamp if it was midday and no one was around.

Of course, all of that was a moot point if the Captain was present. She stuck to him like a shadow. The Captain rarely had time to himself, but made it a point to be available to his crew. Rarely did said crew need him, but it was the point. The humble, earnest qualities in their human commanding officer were mildly contagious. It bred hard work, understanding. Commitment. None of the crew had requested transfer outside of promotion, and all those seeking promotion wanted to attain it within the same ecosystem. It spoke a lot about the climate Ivant created.

Right now, the officer's quarters were empty, save for one person. Said person sat at an empty table, cold tea in front of them, looking at something on a datapad.

"Hi," She ventured softly, startling him from his thoughts. Of course, no Chiss would show such a thing, but Un'hee always could tell. "May I sit with you?"

Thrawn's red eyes slipped over her, silently appraising. She knew he could not tell her no, however he could make up something and leave. But, she also knew he was curious. He had frightened her at first, when they'd met, but almost everything had. She waited patiently, datapad and a small, ancient looking book held in her hands.

"You may," He said, inclining his head toward the empty chair beside him. It had taken him four seconds to consider.

Instead of utilizing her datapad, she opened the smaller tome. Though it was small in size, it was still thick, and she selected the page she needed without a page marker. She could feel his eyes on her as she settled in to read.

It took him several minutes to return to his own reading, and for a while, the only sounds between them were the flip of parchment and the tap of fingertips against the touchscreen. Un'hee did not particularly enjoy reading scholarly texts about the Sight. In fact, she rather detested it. But this one, she did not. The deep blue ink upon the pages was beautiful and contrasted nicely with the color of the pale but yellowing parchment. This text was nearly a millennia old, and yet it still looked as it had when its author completed it.

"I am surprised such an old artifact was allowed out of the capitol," Thrawn said.

Un'hee sighed. "This one is the best of the ones I've read so far. I think they're easier to focus on when you can turn the pages." She slid her finger down the margin carefully.

"You enjoy reading," He commented.

"Perhaps. Not like you enjoy art, though."

"Not many have such in-depth hobbies."

Un'hee swung her legs, feet dangling above the ground. "Perhaps," She said again. "I am interested in how my sisters and I learn and grow," She said. "I wish to be more. Stronger."

"Yet you read meditative texts," He inclined his head toward her current study. "They are hardly concrete in providing evidence or metrics for improvement."

The young Chiss shrugged. "Well, we have Eli to do math for us," She said casually. Thrawn did not react, though she eyed his shoulders, waiting to see if he'd tense and attempt to leave. She continued, innocently enough, "I think that I seek more of a spiritual understanding of strength. My mind was… injured by my captivity," She supposed aloud. "I had to fight to prove I was not too damaged to serve our people. I still do."

Thrawn set down his datapad and looked at her. Really looked at her. At first, he suspected this to be some convoluted plan cooked up between her and Bridger, the latter had been exceedingly oppressive with his presence and some strange mix of support and sympathy since their last discussion of his supposedly tender emotional state.

Un'hee saw a different connection between them. And, Thrawn suspected, noting the way she did not hide or attempt to conceal her intentions, they were likely genuine. He could not consider himself a prisoner in the same sense that she had been. But to the Navigator, that did not seem to matter. She recognized a kindred spirit.

"I do not believe your superiors would find you taking up with me to be in your best interest," He said. "I also, as you say, find myself fighting to prove I am not too 'damaged.'"

"I do not wish to discuss your emotional state with you," Un'hee said, of the trap he'd rather slyly placed. "Your emotions are not my place, despite my worries."

"I suspect you have been apprised of the situation," He mused.

"Vah'nya taught Ezra the Cheunh word for gossip," She rolled her eyes. "He is clueless, but kind. He means well, though I think he will make things worse."

"He is under explicit instructions to withhold his urges to assist in my 'situation,'" Thrawn intoned casually.

"Which is why they sent me." She twisted in her seat to face him. "Vah'nya's hands are tied and so are Ezra's. He won't go against your wishes where you can see it," She said, "But..."

"I too suspected such a ploy, however I remain unsure as to your purposes in telling me this."

Un'hee looked up into Thrawn's face. She did not see facial heat or any indication of irritation, and he felt cool, collected, and calm from what she could sense. She exhaled, folding her fingers together in her lap, then looking down to her book. She closed it and ran her fingers across the cover, then tapped it twice.

"I will not get involved," She said to him, muted and sharp, all at the same time. It reminded him of a much younger Admiral Ar’alani far more than any tendency he had seen from Vah’nya to date. Vah’nya had a softness to her spirit, though it was bright. Un’hee, on the other hand, was all sharp angles, with a fragility beneath. "Do you understand?"

Thrawn inspected the cover of the small text, noting the artwork on the front. It was old, traditional Chiss style, elegant and abstract and a myriad of blues with hints of gold and white. The colors were vibrant and of a gradient that faded from dark to light, indicative of a Navigator at the height of their Sight. Amidst the coloration, however was another design.

Un'hee traced the outline of it, the gold-bronzed ink subdued beneath layers of indigo-blue and time. It was a wayfarer's tool. A compass. She raised an eyebrow when she looked up at him, pushing aside the book and reaching for her datapad.

He eyed the illustration with interest but did not reach out to touch it. “A compass?”

“One word that represents many things,” Un’hee faced straight ahead, but her eyes cast to the side so she could see him in her periphery. “And symbolizes countless others.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Thrawn and Eli visit Thrass at the Mitth family estate on Copero. Thrass is brought up to speed on developments within the CDF.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Thrawn and Eli visit Thrass at the Mitth family estate on Copero. Thrass is brought up to speed on developments within the CDF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/Edited 8/30/2020

The warship _Compass_ arrived at the Copero shipyards for maintenance only an hour behind the _Steadfast_. Ezra remained silent, lingering a step behind Thrawn to make sure he didn’t take any wrong turns once they disembarked from the shuttle. It would be their first time on shore leave, their first break from being in space and aboard the _Compass_ for an extended period of time. Ezra had never taken to exploring any of the planets they’d landed on previously. The xenophobic tendancies of the Chiss were nearly as bad as the upper eschalon of Imperials and this time it was Ezra who was truly alien.

The series of twists and turns eventually led to an air speeder that zipped around through a beautiful city. It wasn’t entirely cold here, but it wasn’t nearly as warm or sunny as Lothal. For the Chiss, however, it was practically tropical. Trees and leafy ferns surrounded white stone buildings, but beyond the city and further inland, snow-packed mountains loomed. Ezra noticed heating grids along some of the walkways and villas they passed, all inactive during the day. He wondered how it was at night, suspecting the temperatures dropped enough for even a Chiss to desire heat.

“I could have stayed in the barracks,” Ezra felt obligated to say when he felt their destination was nearly upon them. This villa, unlike the rest, was trimmed in deep maroon tapestries and had umbrellas set out upon several of the balconies. The airspeeder began to slow, the driver easing off the accelerator.

Thrawn inclined his head. “You have not had the pleasure of meeting my brother. Had you not been brought along, he likely would have made a scene of retrieving you himself.” All Ezra knew of Thrawn’s brother was that he existed, possessed the title of syndic, and represented one of the Ruling Families of the Aristocra.

“You know, somehow I don’t think this is going to be a pleasure,” Ezra muttered in Basic.

“Hardly,” Thrawn replied in kind. “Be advised that the wine tastes less potent but is far more so than anything you could get your hands on in the Outer Rim. He will also view you as a novelty for your abilities and wish for demonstrations.”

“You two are nothing alike, are you?”

“We have our similarities,” Thrawn admitted. “Likely fewer now.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Ezra quipped.

Thrawn raised an eyebrow. “It is not you I am worried about.”

The air was warm outside the speeder when the hatch opened. An attendant, a male Chiss with milk-blue skin a shade or two less vibrant than Thrawn’s retrieved their bags from the vehicle’s storage compartment.

A similarly blue - cerulean, like a deep blue sea - Chiss waited on the steps, dressed in a burgundy robe with a golden sash. Beneath it was another layer of burgundy, but it was collared tunic of some sort that went with his dark pants and smart boots. Ezra tried to look casual, and when that failed, decided to hang back and let Thrawn handle things. They had similar, but not identical facial structures. Thrass had a far less severe resting face, though he had a far more cunning smile. And he did smile, opening his arms wide.

“Brother!” He greeted Thrawn, his extended arms giving weight to his exaggerated excitement. “Welcome home!”

Thrawn nodded, then gestured to Ezra. He stepped up as if he’d been called upon. “This is Ezra Bridger,” He said, indicating Ezra with a sweep of his palm to the right. “Ezra,” He continued, “This is my brother, Syndic Mittth’ras’safis of the Eighth Ruling Family.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Ezra said.

“His Cheunh is better than I was expecting.” Thrass looked to Thrawn, then Ezra. He almost sounded disappointed, which pleased Ezra. “You may call me Thrass. It is nice to finally meet you, Jedi. We have much to talk about.” He turned and motioned for them to follow. “The Admiral and her senior advisors will be in residence for the majority of your visit,” He explains, leading them through beautiful indoor gardens with plentiful water features.

“They will?” Ezra asked before he could stop himself.

“It is customary for a Syndic to welcome commanding officers and Navigators to their home when their ships are docked planetside,” Thrass explained, amusement audible in his voice. He continued to give them a tour of the property - he’d done renovations since Thrawn had last been to their family’s estate - and paused outside twin doors that faced each other across a hallway in the western wing of the property. “These rooms will be yours for the duration of your stay.” To Ezra, he continued, “Make yourself at home. Any of the staff will assist you without issue, so do not hesitate to ask should you need anything.” Then, bowing politely, he stepped back. “I apologize for the brief reception, however I have a holoconference to attend. We will reconvene in two hours for a late lunch. I will send someone to fetch you both.”

Ezra lingered in the open doorway to what was the most luxurious suite he’d ever seen in his life. Thrass and Thrawn were very little alike, that was definitely true. The elder Chiss used charisma to make himself seem open, while Thrawn seemed closed off but was exceptionally open with one who had earned his trust. Ezra noticed that Thrass eyed Thrawn with a calculating glance that bordered on Thrawn’s own before he swept away in a billow of robes.

Well, maybe they shared more than a few idiosyncrasies.

-/

Thrass was… interesting. Ezra had plenty of time to adjust to and learn Thrawn’s micro-expressions (mostly through trial and error). Thrass did not require such a thing. He definitely made himself bigger than he was - his expressions and vanity were very over the top - and yet he didn’t hold back from teasing or chiding Thrawn or Ezra over both the afternoon and late night meals they’d been required to observe.

Ezra knew it was bad when Thrawn didn’t pass up the wine he’d been warned about at either meal, though he hardly thought Thrawn would ever allow himself to become inebriated. Thrawn had very controlling nature, and Ezra suspected it went down to the very core of his identity. The attendants - butlers, servers, however one called them - were treated well and all seemed to be held in high confidence. It spoke of old riches and tradition. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was similar to Coruscant, but he didn’t dare risk offending Thrass by asking Thrawn such a question in his presence. He knew the Chiss weren’t exactly fond of the inferior-seeming humans and their society.

Though awkward overall, Ezra managed to get through it, answering all sorts of invasive questions and doing his best not to allow either Chiss to see him sweat. By the time Thrass asked Ezra to show off his ability to move objects with his mind, Ezra suspected the Syndic had polished off an entire bottle of the sweet-tasting wine that he’d said was produced somewhere on the western part of the planet. He was meant to seem like a stereotypical politician in Ezra’s eyes, though Ezra could see through his nonchalance. This was a cunning man. It was clear that higher intelligence was a shared trait between brothers.

On his second day at the Mitth family’s estate, he spent the morning meditating in the outdoor gardens, foregoing outer layers in an attempt to acclimate to the planet’s temperature. Thrawn had found him sometime later, and dragged him against his will to spar. Of course, Ezra’s education of the Chiss had covered the strengths and expertise of each ruling family, so it was no surprise that there were a multitude of training facilities built into the expansive grounds. Thrawn had called it a waste, and seemed to take a perverse sense of pleasure into beating the snot out of Ezra until Thrass himself had called their session off, requesting time to catch up with his dearest younger sibling.

When Thrawn had quipped that he was Thrass’s only sibling, blood or otherwise, Ezra had to bite back a laugh at his deadpan commentary. It was quite a look on the former Imperial.

He did not see either brother for the rest of the day, and took the time to kick back and relax, and then, when boredom struck, to explore the rest of the manor inside and out. It was excessive for one person, and though he’d heard that the majority of Thrass’s time was spent on the Chiss homeworld, Csilla. Consequently, he’d heard from Vah’nya that Csilla was also Thrawn and Thrass’s homeworld, and that the family manor was not actually any sort of home for them at all. It was status. It was no wonder why Thrawn seemed ill-at-ease here while Thrass entertained them like he’d lived here their entire lives.

Thrawn was considerably modest overall. The only thing expensive about him, at least that Ezra had seen, was his taste in art.

It was on the third morning that Ezra noticed something suspicious. He’d been meditating just before dawn on a balcony that overlooked the front of the manor when an airspeeder pulled up. It was way too early, even by human standards, for normal visitors. The only reason Ezra himself was awake and meditating was because his body was unused to being so rested.

Admiral Ar’alani emerged from the speeder with Captain Ivant and Senior Navigator Vah’nya on their heels, their expressions grim. Thrass approached rather than wait on the steps as he had when Ezra and Thrawn had arrived days earlier. Ezra rose from his kneeling pose and peered over the railing and down to the grounds below.

“The remaining Navigators will arrive shortly,” Ar’alani said in a clipped tone. “In the meantime, we need to discuss these developments. Things are escalating quicker than we expected.”

“I agree,” Thrass said gravely. “Let us go to my office. The staff will handle the speeder and your belongings.”

-/

The Eighth Family’s Syndic had a rather luxurious office, complete with a chamber that could sit the entire Aristocra if necessity dictated it. It never had, but the white marble room was kept pristine in the event that such a need arose. Mitth’ras’safis rounded his desk with a practiced ease, dropping silently into the chair behind the desk and opening the bottom-most drawer. He produced a small black device and set it atop the darkwood desktop. It blinked green once before turning a solid red.

“Shall we begin?”

Admiral Ar’alani cast a look at Vah'nya, who sat beside her in the twin chairs perched directly across from the syndic’s desk. Behind them, and leaning casually next to the doorframe, Ivant waited for her to speak. “We have identified eight infiltrators aboard the _Steadfast_.”

“Are they aware of the project?” Thrass asked, voice dipping low. Tension creased his forehead.

“None of them have direct contact with the Navigators at this time,” Vah’nya said. “To our knowledge, the only information they have is that we have a Jedi aboard the _Compass_ from an operation that Ezra’Bridger assisted us with.”

“The taken Navigators.”

“Yes,” Ar’alani confirmed. Then, “We’ve presented our progress to the admiralty on the project.”

“All of it? You haven’t even apprised me.”

Ar’alani rolled her eyes. “Of course not, Syndic. How can we, considering the current political climate?” And then, indicating the jamming device between them on the desk, “How could I possibly inform you of anything when you obstinately refuse each and every one of my invitations to join me aboard the _Steadfast_?”

“Well,” Thrass rose and procured a bottle of liquor from a cabinet behind the desk. He looked over his shoulder at the trio in a wordless question. Vah’nya shook her head and Ar’alani held her hand out in a silent refusal. He tutted under his breath and set the third glass he’d been reaching for back on the upper shelf, then looked down at the amber liquid as he poured it into each crystal tumbler. “Considering your spy problem, I’d suspect that is for the best, wouldn’t you?”

“Meanwhile, the admiralty thinks you’re a crackpot, and House Inrokini wants to replace you.”

Thrass passed Vah’nya’s left side as he extended one of the two glasses he held to Captain Ivant, who accepted it with a stern nod of gratitude. “You say that like it’s something new,” He groused. “Still, it’s far easier to assassinate me on a ship than it is in my own house.”

“I don’t think you’re their target,” Ivant said.

“No?” Thrass considered, “Killing Thrawn would be pointless. He doesn’t have any power right now.”

“And that’s why it needs to stay that way,” Ar’alani looked over her shoulder, exchanging a meaningful glance with Ivant.

“I agree, Admiral,” Ivant said. His voice held tension, but also regretful understanding. He fixed Thrass with a look. “We don’t think they’re trying to kill Thrawn, though.”

“What would they do if they captured him?” Thrass laughed under his breath to himself, “Specifically if he managed to stay captured.”

“You remember my dream,” Vah’nya said. “The one I told you about, from before-”

“Yes, yes,” Thrass’s tone went softer as he interrupted. “I remember, Navigator.” He gestured for her to continue. Her single statement was all it took to inspire seriousness in the syndic, who waited patiently for her to go on.

“We found concrete evidence of something similar aboard the ship we most recently recovered,” Vah’nya said. Ar’alani produced a chip. “It is in Basic, however-”

“I am somewhat fluent,” Thrass said, waving a hand to dismiss the Navigator’s comment. “I did practice a bit in case our newest addition was… unable to pick up our language.” He held out his hand. “The chip please.”

“Your datapad is encrypted, yes?” Ar’alani asked.

“Disconnected from any servers and freshly wiped, as it always is when we have these… discussions.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Or have you forgotten I am the politician, Admiral?”

“It does not hurt to be extra cautious, Mitth’ras’safis,” Ar’alani chided. She waved to the datapad. “Go on, then. We were able to confirm both validity and origins. The message is recent enough to warrant our concern.”

When it began, the speaker’s voice was scratchy, alien, and hostile. _“I bid you greetings from the Galactic Empire,”_ They said. A tremor descended Thrass’s spine, but he willed himself still. _“I am Emperor Palpatine,”_ There was an audible pause. _“But you may know me as another: Darth Sidious. I believe we may have a mutual enemy in the one known as Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Bring him to me - alive - and you will have the aid of my Empire in your conquest of the Chiss.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Ezra experiences a sympathetic vision. Thrawn has had enough.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Ezra experiences a sympathetic vision. Thrawn has had enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread/edited 8/30/2020

The glass Ezra was holding slipped from his hand and shattered on the marble tile with a crash, water splashing everywhere. Not more than five seconds later, Thrawn came through his door, as if expecting there to be enemies surrounding him on all sides. When there were not, he stopped his advance. Ezra stood completely still, palm and fingers curled as though he were holding the glass broken on the floor.

“Bridger?”

He didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear Thrawn speaking. Thrawn took another step forward, and the sound of his feet against the tile made Ezra jerk, then crumple. Thrawn darted towards the Jedi, grabbing him before he could bash his head on the marbled floor.

“Ezra, answer me,” Thrawn commanded, voice crisp and icy. He shook the young man, watching as his eyelids fluttered. His body seemed to have broken out in a cold sweat, his entire body seeming to draw tight and fearful, as if expecting blows. “Ezra!”

An attendant appeared in the doorway behind them, likely also hearing the commotion. “Sir-”

Blue eyes blinked open, holding Thrawn’s glowing gaze with obvious effort. His eyes were trying to roll back as he spoke. “He’s after you,” Ezra said with a body-wide shudder. “They knew about it. They want...”

“Who?”

“I heard it,” He murmured, losing the fight to remain conscious. “Your brother-” He started to say, before going limp as a result of what Thrawn suspected was mental exhaustion. The Chiss exhaled to steady himself, considering the similarities between Navigators and Jedi. He had never seen a Jedi have a vision - apparently it wasn’t exceedingly common amongst Jedi - but if his thoughts were correct, there was only one Ezra’Bridger could be this unconsciously afraid of.

He rose with Ezra in his arms, giving the woman who had responded a cool glance. “Is Thrass in his office at present?”

“Sir, I don’t-”

“Is he?” Thrawn snarled, more of a command to answer than a question. The woman snapped her mouth shut and nodded once. “Clean this mess,” He indicated of the glass.

“And the human?”

Thrawn’s tone was acerbic. “Certainly there are other guest quarters in this monstrosity of a home, yes?”

-/

“Still, the emperor wants him alive,” Ar’alani said. She stroked her chin. “Based on the information we’ve received Karyn Faro, we know that the Empire is not strictly winning their war with the rebels. The Grysks, however, likely do not.”

“That he’s wanted alive says something,” Thrass agreed.

“He was the best commander in the Imperial Navy,” Captain Ivant murmured. “Everyone knew it, they were just a bunch of xenophobes. Thrawn had plans to defeat the insurgents without the use of their superweapon. If they don’t have another plan - hell, even if they did,” He mused, “Thrawn would be Palpatine’s best option to stomp out the rebellion.”

“And what of his offer to help the Grysks defeat us, Captain?” Thrass’s gaze lingered on him, waiting for what would be their most informed response.

“It’s a possibility. They’re a lot alike,” Ivant supposed. “Maybe they’d team up as long as it took to defeat and enslave us - killing us would be too kind,” He mused morbidly. “But they’d eventually turn on each other. The question is how much of the galaxy they’d wreck in the process.”

“It is not a possibility we can entertain. Not in any capacity,” Vah’nya said firmly. “I do not wish-”

A firm knock on the door gave them all pause. Thrass frowned. That was not the knock of an attendant, nor would any attendant bother the head of house in the midst of such a meeting without fearing for their job, but more importantly Thrass’s ire. No, it could only be one person.

“Brother,” Thrawn growled, voice raised ominously. “Open this door.”

“Well, this is about to get interesting,” Thrass said mildly, like it was just any other day. “Would anyone like a drink before I let him in? Surely none of you have slept yet-”

“We cannot-”

“Do you think he’s going to leave, Admiral?” Thrass made a face as he spoke. “What’s wrong? Did your pet Jedi have a meltdown?”

Vah’nya closed her eyes, seeming to focus. Her breath caught. “Yes, that’s right, he did,” She said softly to Ar’alani. “I should have considered this. He’s spoken of the Emperor to me. Mitth’raw’nuruodo-”

More banging, far more insistent this time came at the door. Thrass continued to pour his glass higher than was socially acceptable, then kept the bottle in hand as he made his way to the door. “You’re making a scene,” The elder brother threw his voice as he stopped in front of Vanto, pouring the human more liquor too. “Calm yourself or I will leave you out there to carry on.”

“You will do no such thing,” Thrawn intoned harshly. “I know-”

Thrass threw the door open before he could continue, not willing to risk whatever confidential item his younger brother had no-doubt uncovered. Thrawn’s eyes flashed in visible fury. To his left and right, but several paces back, stood all of the attendants that serviced the wing. He nodded to them politely, ignoring his brother for the moment in lieu of handing the closest one the empty bottle. “Take that for me please,” He said, almost kindly. “You’ll have to forgive my brother. He’s having a time.”

“Mitth’ras’safis.”

“What?” Thrass tipped his head down, as if the centimeter and a half he had on his sibling was a far greater height. “You wished to be allowed in and I am doing so, against my better judgement.” He stepped back and beckoned Thrawn. Once Thrawn had two steps into the office, Thrass closed the door behind him.

Vah’nya stood, turning to face Thrawn. “Is Ezra alright?”

“Go to him, Navigator,” Ar’alani instructed when Thrawn stared her down in response. “We will be fine here.”

Vah’nya looked just to the right of Thrawn’s left shoulder, where Ivant stood. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod. “Listen to the Admiral,” Ivant said. “It’s fine.”

The Navigator could tell there was an icy - and likely cruel - retort on Thrawn’s tongue. She had never seen him truly angry before. Though, she considered, perhaps that wasn’t the best word to describe him. There were other things that afflicted him. Anger was a good mask for them. Most others might not see through him, but those gathered in this room did not need the gift of Sight to see through Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s facade. She dipped her head to him and left without another word, grateful to slip away from the hostile tension that gripped the syndic’s office.

“Sit,” Thrass bid his brother, indicating the seat the Navigator had left. “You’ve made enough of a scene.”

Thrawn did not. “The Jedi just had a vision in of a plot involving the Emperor-”

“Sit down,” Thrass’s voice was clipped. “Please,” He added tensely.

“-and all of you knew of it.” He turned to face Ivant last. There was no indication of his plans to heed his brother’s request.

The human crossed his arms and stared him down. “We just played the recording,” Ar’alani said, drawing his attention. “If the Emperor is as powerful of a sorcerer as the Jedi proclaims-”

“None of you have any idea of the Emperor’s supposed power,” Thrawn interrupted, voice sharp and full of icy disdain. He looked back to Ivant, daring him to disagree. “Not in the way I do.”

“So we’re supposed to tell you everything?” Ivant asked.

“It is to do with me, is it not?”

“It’s to do with the entire Ascendancy.” Ivant pressed, stern. “As difficult as it may be to hear, Mitth’raw’nuruodo, this is not all about you.”

“On the contrary,” Thrawn said, levying the full weight of his gaze at the Captain, sharp and bitter, “I know for certain it is.”

“How so?”

“The Emperor will want me back. He is losing the war, is he not?” He looked briefly at Ar’alani and Thrass, then focused the whole of his attention on Ivant. “I achieved unrivaled results.”

“Would you like to go back?” Ar’alani asked him. “It didn’t seem to be your desire when we finally retrieved you. It might upset your Jedi friend.”

“I do not wish to serve Emperor Palpatine. I wish to serve the Ascendancy,” Thrawn growled. “A task I am hardly doing at present,” He added, fighting for control over each and every word.

“And for good reason,” Thrass interjected. “You’ve practically come unhinged, brother.” He motioned to Thrawn, indicating he should consider his appearance, both physical and mental. “And these are not exactly peacetimes, as I’m sure you’ve realized.”

“Unhinged? I am one of few who understands the dangers we face in their entirety.”

Ar’alani exchanged a meaningful glance with Ivant before rising. “Syndic.”

“What?” Thrass snapped, never breaking the heated glare he exchanged with Thrawn. It had been two decades too long. Thrawn needed to be put in his place, and he had absolutely no problem doing so.

Ivant opened the door to the hallway. “Let me handle this,” He said.

Thrawn straightened more, looming as he faced the human. “Now you wish to speak with me, El’ivan’to?” He drawled the Wild Space native’s name with the Chiss pronunciation like a vicious slur. Whether it was meant to bait the Captain went unsaid, but Vanto didn’t so much as flinch under pressure.

“You are making a fool of yourself,” Thrass said, then regarded Ivant, warning him, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Ivant didn’t look terribly bothered. In fact, his face remained expressionless, his eyes hard. “It’s fine. This is a long time coming, I think.” He motioned to the door. “Syndic, Admiral, if you would.”

Ar’alani nodded. “We should check on the Jedi as well, seeing that we are to blame for triggering him unnecessarily.”

They cleared out, Thrass giving Ivant a lingering look as if to say it was his funeral if he chose to invoke his brother’s rage on his own. Thrass had forgotten that Thrawn was not some unknown beast to him. This might be the closest he’d ever seen the Chiss to unbridled fury, but he knew better. This volatile mood wasn’t one single emotion. It was a build-up of many emotions and situations, mixing together and building until they bubbled over. Thrawn had been forced to spend the majority of his time with beings less than half his age, trying to reassimilate to a culture and people that had changed drastically since he’d left. This was good, Ivant thought, squaring his shoulders and pushing himself up from his casual lean against the wall. It was about time Thrawn expressed something. Anything, really.

“We aren’t the people we used to be,” Ivant told him, when the door snicked shut and they were truly alone. It was the only indication Ivant had given to show he recalled the conversation they’d had weeks ago, in Thrawn and Ezra’s shared quarters. The Captain gestured to the space between them, looking almost… unimpressed. “Start talking.”

Thrawn smiled. It was predatory. Eli remembered this and braced for the inevitable, conversationally unrelated question he suspected would come. And it did. “What is Project Compass?”

Ivant laughed. Then, he switched to Basic and said, “It’s everything you sent me to the Ascendancy to achieve, Sir,” He drawled, provoking the Chiss with the same tactic he’d tried on Vanto no more than minutes earlier. His eyebrows went up, however, inviting further questioning. Welcoming it, even. “It’s hardly a secret.”

Thrawn didn’t bite. With his usual calm clicking into place he queried, “Is it not? The Navigators seem to think so.”

“I’m sure. We select and study candidates of the highest aptitude, when it comes to their abilities. It’s a bit easier to get them to acquiesce to tests when you explain to them they’re of far higher ability and importance than their colleagues.”

“You lie, Captain.” Thrawn’s voice dipped in something that might be disappointment, if it wasn’t undercut with barely restrained fury. Ivant watched Thrawn attempt to work it out, studying his own motions, his breaths, his face and chest for discrepancies. He knew there were none. If he were the person he had once been, he knew being able to go toe to toe with Thrawn would have been a proud moment, would have left warm satisfaction curling in his gut. Now, he hardly gave it a thought. Still, anyway, Thrawn protested, “Your eyes give you away.”

“They don’t,” Ivant replied, his face blank as if he didn’t care one way or another if Thrawn believed him or not. He was just as capable of redirection as Thrawn was, but he knew better than to draw it out and risk a miscalculation. He didn’t underestimate Thrawn, even in a state like this. So, he opted not to meander around the point, and instead told the truth. “The Grysks tortured that out of me.”

It was a low blow. Lower than any the once-Imperial Eli Vanto had ever struck. Thrawn reeled from it, caught spectacularly unaware. There was no witty comeback, no continued assault from the Captain. He stood still, assessing Thrawn silently without so much as an indication of his intent, no emotion crossing his face. It proved his point. Thrawn couldn’t read him. Thrawn didn’t know if Eli told him the truth or issued a lie.

And it made Thrawn sick to his stomach, revulsion and self hatred flaring through every synapse. It had been because of him, the Navigators had informed Ezra. But it was more than that. His choices had put this man here. And he had to bear the consequences of that. He was responsible for making this man what he’d become and for all his suffering along that path.

“Stop that.” Ivant said after a moment, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of Thrass’s desk. He took the one Vah’nya had left and waited for Thrawn to take the other to his left. “You’re not some god, you know.” He raised the glass of whiskey to his lips and took a pull of the drink, then set it down decidedly to the right of the coaster Thrass had set out for exactly that purpose. “This ain’t all on you.” Thrawn looked at the tumblr for a moment, but then the Captain spoke again, drawing his gaze. “Is Project Compass really what you want to know about?”

Thrawn considered saying yes. He did wish to know what Ar’alani’s plan was, what this project was that a non-Chiss was obviously so instrumental in achieving. But that was information he could get from other sources. Vanto’s words rang in his head. They really weren’t the same people they had been, before.

“Was,” Thrawn paused. Considered. He wondered just how Vanto saw him in this moment, but knew that in this instance, pride could not matter. “Was I to blame for your capture?”

Ivant leaned back in his seat. He picked up his glass, studying it. “Abstractly, you could say so, yes.” He shrugged. “You were among the reasons I took the mission in the first place.”

“You were aware of what I did. My actions-” He frowned. “I do not understand.”

Ivant met his gaze, choosing not to comment about the mixed feelings he saw there. “The way I see it, the Emperor forced your hand. He was just as xenophobic as the rest of the Empire and you were too smart for your own good, plus you were loyal to your own people, first. He was paranoid, and you flagged yourself as an enemy. He seems to burn through an awful lot of allies for a man trying to expand his empire.”

“If not the Chiss, the Grysks,” He mused. Like pawns in a game of galactic chess. “They believed you knew where I was,” Thrawn realized, seeing the connection. “You knew they would capture you.”

“I did know,” Ivant confirmed. “But they suspected Vah’nya had the information instead of me. I’m just a hireling, remember? I thought you sent me here because I was good at math.”

“Then why-”

“She didn’t have the information to give them. Only two people knew where the _Chimaera_ ended up. The Admiral and myself. She took the fleet on the course you were on, and I made it known I was attempting some harebrained plan to rescue you on a mirror of that path.” He smirked. “It was a good plan. By the time they figured out I was the decoy, they’d shown me all their cards and the fleet was in the wind.” He shook his head. “Worked out about as well as we expected.”

“I was not worth that.”

The captain dispelled the thought. “It wasn’t just for you. There were plenty of good men and women we served with aboard the _Chimaera_. Good people who deserved to live.”

“Good people who will never know who saved them,” Thrawn said. “The Grysks would have slaughtered at least half of them, and enslaved the rest.”

“I don’t need the recognition,” Ivant said. He steered the conversation back on course, revealing, “The Emperor promised the Grysks a reward for capturing you and bringing you back to the Empire. Aid,” He revealed, “To defeat the Chiss.”

“Then, or now?”

“Both.” Ivant tapped the pocket he’d put the datacard in. “We found this transmission on the ship Ar’alani took with help from Bridger. They want to break you. The Emperor’s power is strong, of that there is no doubt. The Navigators dream of him from time to time.” He shook his head. “But he is not invincible or absolute. And you will not be going back, even if you wanted to.”

“I do not.”

“I know that, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

“Thrawn,” The Chiss said. “I would prefer it if you called me Thrawn.”

“As you wish.” Ivant’s gaze narrowed, his brown eyes searching Thrawn’s for something. If he found it, Thrawn couldn’t be sure. His voice was cool, but not unkind. “We are on the precipice of civil war,” He said, and Thrawn didn’t have time to think about the way Vanto considered himself a Chiss, the way he so naturally said ‘we.’ “I realize you wish to be in command, and frankly, I don’t blame you. But there is a reason for the Admiral’s decision to keep you assigned to Bridger. She and I expect you to honor that assignment.”

“As you said,” Thrawn interjected. “We are not who we were before.” It wasn’t a true acknowledgement, hardly a guarantee that Thrawn would not revolt against the decisions of his superiors, but it would have to do.

“No. We are not,” Ivant agreed, his voice fierce. Once again, he held Thrawn’s gaze. His was more open now, dark and bright and earnest all at once, like Thrawn remembered, yet more, somehow. “We have to be better.”

Thrawn’s breath caught in his throat, the wardrum that was his heartbeat seeming to thunder in his chest, faster than before. He realized, possibly for the first time, that Eli Vanto was speaking to him as an equal. And he was, unlike any who had come before, Thrawn thought. Vanto had evolved beyond Thrawn’s wildest expectations and hopes. He had come here of his own choosing. Had made difficult choices and persevered on his own merit. Had proven everyone who ever doubted him wrong.

And, Thrawn realized suddenly, sharply and of his own volition: He was in love with this man. It was not some pandering thought of an overly-attached Jedi, nor the convoluted plot pushed upon him by scheming Navigators. Truly, he was in love with Eli Vanto. He wanted to get to know this man better, wanted to understand him down to his most minute elements. Flesh and bone, heart and soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Ivant and Un’hee and data that could change everything.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Ivant and Un’hee and data that could change everything.

"You know, I'm really getting tired of being traumatized by you people," Ezra said, sounding sleep-rumpled and woozy. He stared up at the ceiling, blinking himself awake. The Force tended to give him a wicked hangover over events like these.

Vah'nya had the decency to look apologetic beside him, able to empathize with his current state. The Navigators had visions and dreams, too. "It was a recording. We didn't realize you would react so strongly."

"He's a Sith. He wanted me dead, and he used Thrawn to try and do it. Of course I was going to react strongly," He wasn’t angry, exactly, more annoyed and exhausted than anything.

"We know that now," Vah'nya agreed, voice low and soft. "Do you remember what the message was?"

Ezra turned his head to look at her. "He wants Thrawn," He said, then turned his head back to look up at the ceiling.

"He does." She leaned over his legs, plucking an errant shard of glass from a crease in his pants. Thankfully Ezra had been wearing shoes when he'd dropped the cup, otherwise he'd be plucking glass from his feet for days. 

The door to the left opened, revealing Ar'alani and Thrass. Ezra tried to sit up, but the Admiral waved him off. He was getting tired of looking - and feeling - like an invalid because of these people. "At ease," She said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Admiral. It just shook me, is all."

"We failed to take into consideration how your abilities would warn you of your natural enemy. You have my apologies," She said primly, but no less genuine.

"How's Thrawn taking it?"

Thrass laughed. "Well, we haven’t heard more yelling or throwing things since he came barging in, so I think Ivant has it under control." He crossed his arms, "Though I am concerned for the state of my office, regardless."

Neither the Syndic or Admiral remained long after confirming the Jedi in their midst to be stable. Vah’nya lingered, not bothering to move from the chair she’d pulled across the room when she arrived.

“They’re talking to him,” Ezra sounded relieved to Vah’nya because he was. “Even if it’s just a little bit. He doesn’t do well when he’s not in the know, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

Vah’nya hid her smile behind a hand. “Yes,” She said wryly. “I might have picked that up.” 

The Jedi propped himself up with his elbows, then swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He didn’t make any attempt to stand just yet. His heartbeat felt normal and he didn’t feel the sickly cold ooze of dark that he’d felt earlier. That was good. He’d have to meditate extra in the coming days thanks to this, he knew. Good thing he didn’t have anything else to do in this ridiculously sized mansion.

“So,” Vah’nya hedged slowly, tapping her knees with her hands, fingers fanned over them. She was still in uniform, though it was clear from the muted glow of her eyes she hadn’t slept yet. “There is something I should tell you, considering.”

“Me?”

“I have no doubt Ivant is talking to Thrawn about it now.”

“What?”

“I had a vision of your Emperor, not long after Thrawn’s defeat.” She paused, clarifying, “A dream, but I know the difference between a nightmare and Third Sight.”

“And?”

“I saw him manipulating Mitth’raw’nuruodo, with the Grysk as his allies.” She frowned.

“For the Empire?”

Vah’nya shook her head. "And I saw what they would make him do."

"Yeah, I don’t think any of us would have liked what happened if your vision came true,” Ivant said from the doorway. “I still don’t know that following me into the belly of the beast was the smartest move, but I’m damn sure glad you did." He didn't smile, exactly, but his eyes were clear and warm. Thrawn, much taller than the human he trailed behind, made very pointed eye contact with Ezra.

“You are well?” The Chiss asked. He didn’t seem terribly comfortable, but he didn’t look as on-edge as Thrass had made him sound, either.

“Yes, Thrawn,” Ezra answered, a bit of a nagging drawl to his voice. He nodded, holding the Chiss’s gaze.

Vah’nya rose. “I am going to sleep now,” She decided. “You need meditation,” She instructed. “I wish to speak with you later, if you are up to it. I want to compare the difference between my Sight and your Force visions.”

Because they hadn’t had that discussion before, Ezra thought blandly. Still, he agreed. It wasn’t like he had much else to do. “Sure. After the third meal?”

“I doubt I will be of much use after the third meal,” Vah’nya laughed. “I, for one, would like to drink some of Thrawn’s brother’s wine.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Do all Chiss drink this much?” He asked.

Admiral Ar’alani picked that moment to re-enter the room. She raised an eyebrow in a severe smirk, pleased that there was no open hostility to be seen. “We are not graced with superior livers for nothing,” She said dryly. She beckoned Vah’nya to show her to her room and they left, the Captain not far behind them. 

Left with Thrawn, Ezra blinked. “Was she joking with me?”

“It was not entirely untrue,” Thrawn said, his voice softer, but not as smooth as usual. He was hiding something, Ezra realized. That wasn’t entirely surprising, considering he’d just had an exceedingly rare one-on-one conversation with Captain Ivant. It was too soon for him to pry, and there was no way he had the mental fortitude to deal with Thrawn considering the morning he’d had so far. “But I do believe that was her intention.”

-/

The study was quiet. Across the room, only the slightest hum of a workstation - a powerful one with many holoscreens - provided the only sound beside the occasional flipping of a page. Un’hee laid flat on her belly on a chaise set off to the side, legs kicked up behind her, swinging as she read. She did not enjoy spending time away from Ivant, despite it being necessary. When she’d arrived at the Mitth family’s estate, she’d barely given a polite greeting to the Admiral or Syndic Thrass before inquiring after him.

He was occupied, though, as she knew he would be. And that was fine. She knew his work was important. That he saw things others could not. He was bright and strong. A navigator of a different kind than she, but no less for it. She looked down at the page she was on, the words blurring together. She sighed.

“What’s wrong, Un’hee?” Ivant asked. She waited a second to look in his direction, well aware that it would take time for him to divert his attention from the spreadsheets and charts he’d pulled up.

“Nothing,” She said, fingering the end of her braid where it dangled off her shoulder. “Just bored.”

“You could go join Ezra. I know he enjoys your company.” Then, expression softening, he added, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ezra is sparring with Commander Thrawn,” She said. “And I do not think I want…” She frowned. “It is difficult to explain.”

“How so?” He hit a button on the workstation console and every holoscreen went dark. 

“I feel like I am waiting for something to happen,” Un’hee admitted. Ivant pushed his chair back and held open his arms, and she rose, letting him sit her on his lap, fold her into an embrace. “I feel like we are on the edge of a knife made of ice.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong, exactly,” Ivant agreed. “How does it make you feel?”

“I don’t know,” She groused, lip curling in a pout. “My focus is not how it should be. I feel… scattered.”

“Have you been sleeping?”

“As best I can,” She said.

“Nightmares?”

She pushed her face against his chest, murmuring into his shirt, “Some.”

“Hmm,” Ivant stroked his chin, then toggled his workstation back on. “Did it start after you arrived here?”

“It didn’t get better,” She said, settling in. “Something happened, before I arrived?”

The Captain didn’t lie to her, but he didn’t give any details, either. “It did, but I think it’s alright now.” He readjusted her weight so that she could curl up against him without inhibiting his ability to work. Once her next growth spurt hit, there’d be little chance of such a thing. The nine year old Chiss was already becoming a lanky, awkward thing, mostly a tangle of too long arms and legs she hadn’t quite grown into yet. “I think your Second Sight is getting stronger,” He admitted to the top of her head. She hummed in reply as he continued, “But I also think you’ll feel clearer after a nap. I know you didn’t sleep well while I was gone.”

She put up a valiant fight, blinking tiredly at the screens that flickered and flashed as Ivant worked through the data, resorting and compiling things all while making notes on a separate datapad.

“You’re close,” She accused in Basic, after a long while. Ivant had thought her to be asleep, she’d been nearly limp in his arms for a while now, her breaths slow and even.

“I might be,” He agreed, and she giggled fondly at his Wild Space drawl. “Later, I might need your help to test my theory. But for now,” He murmured, “Rest, Un’hee.” 

When she was well and truly asleep this time, her breaths coming in tiny whistles that were too faint to be snores, he lifted her up carefully and set her back on the chaise. He pulled the velveteen blanket that hung over its back down and over her, watching her for a moment to be sure the movement didn’t wake her. Then, he returned to the desk, pulled up the rest of the information he needed, and got to work.

There was nothing scientific about what would save the Chiss Navigators. At least, not in practical application. He’d done his best to translate the data into zeroes and ones, to make it all appear understandable and palatable to this warrior race. But the reality was that the initial solution to the question that hadn’t been asked of him had nothing to do with biology or ancestry, no variable that could be easily tweaked and applied to every Navigator in the Ascendancy at large to help them keep their gifts. Each Navigator was their own person, and thus their experiences were largely their own.

He pulled the most recent data he’d had on the Jedi. Then, he pulled Un’hee and three of the Navigators in her age group - ages seven through nine - and compared them over the last six months. Satisfied, he pulled the data of another six, from the nine to twelve, and thirteen and over age groups. There was no level in their bloodwork to indicate any changes, other than the changing flux of hormones that Chiss and Humans did not share, indicating their body’s maturation.

The issue was that the key didn’t lie in numerical data or statistics. Determining where Navigators would arise and if there was any statistical analysis that could predict them was a piece of the puzzle he would not be able to solve without first conquering this. There were, of course, probabilities that certain families and bloodlines would produce offspring more likely to possess Third Sight, but it was far more random.

But, Eli’van’to had seen something out in the Grysk Hegemony, in the dark abyss of space. He knew _how_ it happened, He knew how it could continue to happen, he thought. The problem was that he knew politics. And the more he learned, the more he came to realize that politics and social structure had been the Chiss’s downfall in the first place.

There was a reason Admiral Ar’alani was good at her job. Why she was revered as a leader, cool and calculating and unflappable, and yet she nurtured and consoled, parented her navigators. She, Ivant knew, was an instrument open to the solution. Their political adversaries, not so much. 

He had been fortunate to spend his military career within the Galactic Empire - and even now, within the Chiss Ascendancy - outside of the normal, to be in the shadow of a commander who saw all sides, not just the winning one. They encouraged him to pursue all avenues in search of the truth. And, outside of the Empire, that meant he had been able to access data that had not been concealed or tampered with. Now, he knew some of the history of the Jedi, though it was mostly scraps and pieces. It was how he learned that the Chiss did not have midichlorians like most other sentient species to gauge the strength of their abilities.

Through defectors and their networks, people like Karyn Faro who had gained forbidden knowledge in their quest for truth, he learned that there were inside orchestrators. He learned that the Jedi were not evil, simply flawed. And likewise, so were the Chiss and their Navigators. It was interesting that their very dogma, what they believed to make them strong, had cut them off from the lanes that would make them so, that they would be the instruments of their own demise.

The truth, regardless of the differences between Humans and Chiss, Jedi and Navigators, was simple. It was emotional openness and acceptance, embracing those feelings that allowed for a higher sense of self. Of course, unless exposed to a Chiss who could validate that claim - and even then - the lack of concrete proof would make such an assertion fantastical.

Of course, that was why Eli designed to prove it with science. Thus, he needed a subject who had not already undergone the necessary changes to prove it. He looked across the room at Un’hee, his lips pulling up in a tender smile.

She would be the one, he thought. She would be the example by which generations of Navigators would follow. He believed that. He only hoped that her awakening would not be through the same kind of horrific experience as Vah’nya’s.

He wasn’t foolish, however. The reality of the matter was that the Chiss were proud, stern warriors to their very core. Regardless of their age, gender, or abilities, they would not be able to fully realize their potential without undergoing some great battle, an impossible trial. For his and Vah’nya’s part, that meant helping to arm every Navigator he could with the skills they would need to recognize their moment when it was time.

And, silently in the background, Eli resolved to provide tangible metrics. Results. He pulled up the results of neural scans he had on file and highlighted several trends for further analysis. He had the feeling he might just be on to something...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Vah’nya and Ezra meditate. Ivant and Ar’alani discuss what it means to be a warrior.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Vah’nya and Ezra meditate. Ivant and Ar’alani discuss what it means to be a warrior.

“He has been in his quarters for... _days_. That cannot be healthy,” The Admiral said after Thrass notified them that Ivant would not be joining them for the first meal of the day. Under her breath, she added, “Human or otherwise.” 

Thrass rolled his eyes. “You do know he’s an adult, right? He can take care of himself.” Then, he added sarcastically, "It isn't as though he takes much - or any - time off. I wonder which one of you he learned that from…” Feigning an innocent glance between Ar’alani and Thrawn, he mused, “Or perhaps he just loves his work that much."

Further down the table, Ezra eyed the pale pink beverage Thrass was drinking, wondering if it too contained some kind of alcohol. He didn’t doubt it, first meal or not. Belatedly, he snuck a glance at Vah'nya, displeased that she had dragged him here for the proceedings. He suspected it would have been a far quieter and more comfortable meal out on the terrace with the rest of the Navigators.

“I’ve instructed my staff to bring him meals,” Thrass relented, fixing the Admiral with a helpless look. Ezra wondered briefly if he missed something the Admiral said, but that didn't seem to be the case. She was just fixing Thrawn's brother with her deadpan gaze as he said, “You know how he is when he’s onto something.”

"He knows his limits," Thrawn interjected mildly, drawing everyone's eyes but Vah'nya's. The eldest Navigator of the Chiss sipped a sweet smelling dark tea, listening politely but not engaging. She met Ezra's eyes and smiled behind her teacup. He had learned that she was not much of a morning person, which made her desire for them to be here even more confusing.

Thrass smirked, as if he knew something his brother did not. "You might find yourself surprised."

"You are a menace, Syndic," Ar'alani gestured to the Navigator and Jedi. "Tease him on your own time."

"Tease him about what?" Ezra asked innocently.

Vah'nya bit back a snort. She hid it well though, only earning the beginnings of a glare from her Admiral.

“Oh, nothing,” Thrass said, his attempt at innocence sounding more like gloating. “I would never _tease_ about my friendship with Eli.”

"Your _friendship_ is hardly anything other than acquaintance and mutual concern," Ar'alani reminded the Syndic. Her words were chosen carefully, Ezra could tell. To his right, Thrawn did not seem offended or flustered. In fact, since his discussion with Captain Ivant following Ezra's… incident, Ezra had noticed that Thrawn seemed a lot more balanced. Steady. Pensive and withdrawn, for sure, but not scattered and angry like he'd been before.

"Yes, yes, nevermind the countless months he spent here after his brush with death-"

Ar'alani shook her head. Ezra knew that look from previous experience with the Admiral. If Thrass wished to inspire Thrawn's attention, on his own head be it. "Yes, and you spent all that time at his bedside, did you?"

"Hardly. But I did check in on him."

"Why bring him here?" There it was, Ezra thought. Thrawn regarded Thrass coolly, but with that single-minded intensity. It was hard not to see Thrawn's luminous red eyes as anything but furious, but he'd had time to understand some of the nuance. There was suspicion there. Wariness, too. No doubt stepping into this conversation with Thrass was akin to wandering through a field full of landmines.

"Regardless of the several alternative reasons he no doubt gave you," Thrass said, "Eli’van’to did ultimately save your life. At least, that’s the part I cared about, anyway.” He shrugged. “And if you were willing to part with him despite his career at your back, I suspected you might prefer 'alive' to 'a warrior's death.'"

"What Syndic Mitth'ras'safis means," Vah'nya finally interjected, "Was that sending him to the military hospital on Csilla would have been asking for someone ill-meaning to assassinate him." She blinked up at Thrass, demurely awaiting his response. None came. She let her eyes wander over to Thrawn, seated to his left, next to the head of the table. "Under the syndic's protection was the best place for him to recover safely."

Thrawn frowned, but didn’t comment.

Vah'nya didn't flinch. "Of course," she looked at Ar'alani, "The fleet was stationed out this way and it was far easier to smuggle in human medics, too. Though they hardly did anything," She muttered, at the end.

"I do wonder why that is," Thrass tutted at Vah'nya, intent to invite her to share in some of Thrawn's ire. He knew how much his brother loved not being in the know.

"Enough squabbling," Ar'alani pressed. "Stop holding it over his head," She instructed the syndic, as if she were superior in rank. She wasn't, though it was all somewhat ambiguous as to how it lined up between military officers and political officials within the Ascendancy. It also didn't hurt that Thass knew she could rip him to literal and metaphorical pieces without difficulty. She considered Thrawn for a brief moment, almost protective, before moving on. "And you," She chided Vah'nya, "Really need to work on your gossiping."

"That was hardly gossip, Admiral. Gossiping would include me mentioning how you frequented his bedside to achieve the necessary solitude in order to catch up on your reading."

Ezra couldn't help it. He snorted, trying to hold back his laughter and failing. It was infectious though, and Vah'nya found herself joining in, much to the Admiral's disapproval.

“Enough,” Ar’alani sounded terribly annoyed, though it was hardly Vah’nya and the alien Jedi that bore the brunt of her irritation. Syndic Mitth’ras’safis was a thorn in her side. Still, if she could alleviate some areas of origin... “Leave us,” She ordered both Ezra and Vah’nya. “Enjoy your day. Do not bother me.”

“Do you have reading to do, Admiral?” Vah’nya quipped.

“Some. If you’d like,” She said, a slippery note to her voice, “I could arrange for you to assist me with the after action reports I need to review and approve.”

The Navigator was stone-faced and on her feet in seconds, the remaining food on her plate long forgotten. She hated those damn reports. “Come, Ezra’Bridger,” She said, already making for the door.

Ezra looked mournfully at his unfinished plate, but did as he was told. In the doorway to the grand dining room, Vah’nya took his wrist and dragged him not toward the terrace and the other Navigators, but towards the gardens. He could hear Thrass laughing behind them, the sound of the Chiss elite’s voice echoing down the extravagant corridors.

Vah’nya led them to a sunny place in the easternmost gardens on the estate, a greenhouse with giant, arching glass ceilings and sun-bleached glass ceilings and large white-stone flecked pillars. In the center was a beautiful, burbling fountain that spilled into a pond with strange, exotic fish that hung to the bottom peacefully.

Releasing his wrist, she spun around to face him, then gestured at two pillows laid upon the ground in the very center of the floor’s elaborate mosaic tiling. “What do you think?”

It looked… not quite natural, but Ezra took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was far enough away from the rest of the manor, serene and calm. “I think it’s perfect.”

“Good.” The Chiss smiled.

Meditation wasn’t a key tenant of the Chiss Navigators’ training or practice. More often than not, they suffered from overstimulation that was only alleviated by sensory deprivation, allowing the body and mind to disconnect and then come back to each other naturally. Ezra likened it to a sort of hard reset, a power down and restart. He’d tried it when they’d initially tested him, a training exercise to see how he fared. Whatever they wanted from him, he likely hadn’t done it, but no one had ever said a word. Instead, they simply told him he didn’t have to attempt somnia again if he didn’t believe it was helpful, so he didn’t.

Vah’nya was interested in the way Ezra’s powers worked. Not impressed easily, like Thrass who found it interesting that Ezra could leap exceedingly high or levitate things - even people, if he wanted - in the air, manipulate things with his mind. Ezra had drawn the line at the classical ‘Jedi mind trick,’ though it was Thrawn who debunked the mystery: the Chiss were not a people who could be manipulated in this way.

He waited for Vah’nya to select which of the cushions she wished to sit on. She did so cross-legged, the backs of her hands resting open, palms up on her knees. Once she was settled, he kneeled atop the second, grateful not to bear his weight only on the marblesque tiling. Vah’nya took a deep breath in, held it, then exhaled.

“Is this all there is to it?”

“Sort of,” Ezra said. “Part of it is clearing your mind, but you’re not actually doing that. You’re supposed to be focused, but not. It’s kinda hard to explain. I usually try to feel my connection to everything around me and kind of let it guide me from there.” He rubbed the back of his head, sheepish. “My training was good, but it wasn’t… I’m not a real Jedi, like the ones from before the Empire,” Ezra admitted. “My master was trained until the Empire wiped out his master, but,” He sighed. “It wasn’t a traditional Jedi education. A lot of what I learned with Kanan, we learned together.”

“I see,” Vah’nya said. “He meant a lot to you.”

“He’s family,” Ezra answered. “I owe him everything.”

She nodded once, and they stayed silent a moment, their breathing syncing without much effort. Slowly, the Navigator asked, “Your feelings for him - for your family - do you believe it makes you strong?”

“The Jedi warned about attachment, Kanan told me. It was something he said he struggled with, and something that he thought hurt the Jedi more than it helped. But he taught me attachment and love are two different things. Attachment is selfish. It’s what _you_ want. Real love isn’t selfish at all.”

Vah’nya considered that, shifting to get comfortable and closing her eyes. “Describe to me what your _Force_ feels like, Ezra’Bridger.”

-/

Eli Vanto was not a man who thought highly of himself. He was a man who, in terms of his life overall, had only recently started dictating his own destiny. Sometimes he still felt every bit of the bright-eyed cadet Thrawn had decided to uproot and reshape to his own devices. That was good, though. It was important to remember where one started from.

He looked at the data and exhaled. They needed definitive results that the data supported. Only time would tell. It was already out of his hands in a lot of ways, but he was confident he’d found compelling metrics. More than that, he believed in his Navigators. 

A knock interrupted him from his thoughts. Without his approval, the door opened slowly, the hall backlighting behind his visitor so that all he could see was the outline of a woman’s silhouette and glowing red eyes.

“You have been concerning our hosts with your absence,” Admiral Ar’alani said. She would never admit to being openly worried about him herself and Vanto would never want her to. He’d seen that attention and concern pressed upon him once in his life, and that was more than enough. She was a good commanding officer. She was close to Thrawn’s level of mind-reading but without that same intensity, well rounded and seasoned in other ways that he was not. Her empathy, even towards those outside of her species, was impressive and rare for a Chiss.

Ivant beckoned her over, knowing she would feel better about his choice to devote himself to analysis once he brought her up to speed."I know what data we need to collect," He informed her. 

"You do?" She stepped around the desk and stood behind him, looming just behind his right shoulder. "Show me."

"In Vah'nya, the data is spotty, since it wasn’t know beforehand what kind of data we’d be looking for." He pulled up and highlighted a line in a table, and on another holoscreen, a chart corresponding to that data appeared. "See where it jumps out of the steady decline? That's her neuro eval on Csilla, after our time in captivity."

"It hasn't dropped since," Ar'alani said. “And it has been two years.”

"I don't think it will," Ivant answered. "A medical professional could probably explain it better, but the short version is that a part of her brain has become more active." He pulled up comparisons of other Navigators. "These are ones who trial out of Project Compass."

"They dip significantly," Ar'alani commented. "And this correlates directly with their abilities?"

"Yes," Vanto confirmed. "These are Navigators in their mid teens, ages fourteen to seventeen. The numbers don't actually have to be high for them to possess and use Third Sight, but the downward trend is indicative of their abilities fading, until they eventually match those of a Sightless Chiss." He pulled up another. "These are the younger ones." 

"They are rising." She motioned with a rolling wave. "And Sightless children?"

"Here are the comps."

"Sightless children are elevated more than an adult, but their numbers are not even half that of a Navigator. If what you are saying is correct, we could hypothetically test for Sight at a younger age, rather than waiting for it to manifest."

"Correct, Admiral." Ivant pulled up another screen and the chart switched to color code and match specific lines of summary data. "Now, we just need to prove these findings aren't a fluke."

"You've identified candidates?"

"Several."

"Un'hee," She presumed first, "And how many others?"

"Four." Anticipating her next question, he added, "The youngest is seven. The oldest is fifteen."

"The oldest in her decline?"

"Yes, but she's plateaued. Since being brought on board the _Compass_ , it has not fallen-"

"Even if we can prolong it," She said. "That would be a miracle in itself." Then, she looked down at him, her cold, thin fingers squeezing his shoulder. It was a firm grip, almost painful, though she meant it as encouragement. "You have something else."

"It's a working theory," Ivant began, "Based on how Vah'nya's breakthrough manifested and the girls we've seen progress with."

She stepped back, and Ivant powered down his console, removing the data cards and locking them securely in a black box within the desk itself. "Speak your mind," She said, moving to the chaise.

"I can give you numbers to prove it, when it happens," Ivant said. "I - at least, I think I can show you what the connection is, so we can show the Admiralty it's real and not some fluke. But you or I can't _make_ it happen."

"You believe it is individual?"

He nodded. "Maybe there's a future where that won't be the case," Ivant said, "Vah'nya is working to learn and hone skills she thinks will help. She thinks the Jedi can help her to understand, so I told her to pursue that lead."

"And what do you think the catalyst is? A brush with death? Overcoming fear?"

"No," He said. "I think it's actually a lot more simple than that."

Ar'alani inclined her head, leaning back against the plush backrest of the lounge while keeping her back entirely straight in the process. She looked regal like this, and she knew it. Also, it was far more comfortable than her command chair. "Simple how?"

"Thrawn always went on about the ways of the warrior-"

"Yes," She interrupted, "That is culturally... significant to our people.”

“Which is why I think it’s important. Vah’nya has given Un’hee old navigator texts. They spoke often and fondly of Warrior’s Fortune.”

“The account of one centuries-dead Chiss shouldn’t be enough-”

“It’s not just one. It’s listed in at least a thousand other memoirs left by different Navigators, then stops right around the time of an ancient war that I think had something to do with the Sith.”

Ar’alani frowned, the expression sharp with concern. “Explain yourself. You do not have access to their archives. It is only accessible by Navigators.”

“Vah’nya allowed me to compile data under her supervision.”

“That is a crime, Captain Eli’van’to,” She rebuked. “There are sacred articles that protect the Navigators’ texts and archives from access by those who lack the Sight, Chiss or otherwise.”

Eli took a breath and braced himself. There was no easy way to say this. “I think that the real crime is that the Chiss have been stamping out their own Navigators,” He replied, never looking away from her deep red eyes. “The articles that protect the Navigators’ works from being publically accessible went into effect after they found themselves on the losing end of an alliance. From what I could tell, the Aristocra nearly destroyed itself in the process in the midst of some political feud at about the same time. One of the end results of their squabbles was that the Navigators were forced into more combat-forward positions and likened to soldiers in training, not children.”

“I know my people’s history,” Ar’alani pressed. “To accuse our ancestors of such a thing is a very serious accusation to make. It will not be taken lightly, should it become known.”

“I know,” Ivant agreed, his shoulders rounding for only a second before he straightened again. “But I believe it’s the truth.” He regarded her for a careful moment. “Of all the Navigators you’ve ever seen, can you tell me you’ve seen another as emotionally open or expressive as Vah’nya?”

“I have not,” She answered. “She has always worn her heart on her sleeve, for better or worse. Even when society has dictated otherwise.”

“The warrior’s downfall is pride, Admiral.” He fixed her with a heavy gaze. “The Chiss are a proud people. Most are too proud to show emotion or admit fear because it’s considered weakness. And, seeing it that way, they’re-” He sighed, “For a lack of a better term, ma’am, they’re blinding the Navigators. They’re not making the connections they need to fully unlock their abilities. At least, not like they used to, millennia ago.”

“If you were to say this to the Aristocra, they would throw you out, no matter how many numbers or navigators you provided to them,” Ar’alani said. “You would be lucky to escape without being fired upon.”

Ivant smirked. “Then it sounds like I’m onto something.”

“Perhaps,” She allowed. “Do not utilize the archives without me next time,” She said. “It is not only current Navigators who may access the ancient texts and I would like to know what aspects of our past will help to secure our future.”

Message received, Ivant dipped his head in a respectful nod. “Understood, Admiral.”

Satisfied, she continued. “If what you say is true, Eli’van’to, we will face difficult odds,” Her expression was grim, but held the slightest undercurrent of hope. “The words of an outsider will not be well received, no matter how true they are.”

“I know. That’s why Vah’nya should be the one to present them, when the time comes. She is the one who started all of this.”

Tsking, Ar’alani said, “I hardly believe that. This started because she felt compelled to protect you.”

“This started,” Ivant said, “Because protecting others is a warrior’s duty. And the Chiss, above all else, are warriors at heart.”

Ar’alani smiled. “I do not believe it is only Chiss who possess the heart of a warrior.” Her gaze narrowed, but there was no malice in it, only cool understanding. “Not always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: A moment of balance between Thrawn and Eli.
> 
> PS: I did some research before coming up with this theory regarding the Chiss's Sight. In some types of mental illness, recovery is noted by increased activity in the amygdala and hippocampus (the parts of your brain related to emotion). I twisted that a bit to create the theory that in the Chiss, this part of the brain was linked to their Sight, the strength of which is tied to emotional vulnerability and openness. It's definitely hand waving sci-fi/fantasy because I'm doing some other fun things with it (you might have caught on to that with some of what Ivant was saying in the chapter).


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: A moment of balance between Thrawn and Eli.

It was late. Even for a Chiss. Very few lights were on, as the majority of those within the manor are able to see well enough into the infrared not to necessitate lights, though ornate candles burn at different points down several of the halls. It was a decorative choice, sure, but it also was meant to cater to the human whose rooms were directly across from his. In a way, Thrawn could appreciate it like this, the way the yellow-orange light flickered and splashed across the halls, highlighting historical, ornamental art. 

But at the same time, he found he much preferred the remainder of the estate in its natural, unlit fashion, the purple black skies, hazy with clouds visible from the floor to ceiling windows in the main lounge that overlooked the front of the manor. Everything was dark, and even with the ability to see into a superior spectrum, most everything had cooled thanks to the temperature regulation systems.

A flicker of lightning danced across the sky, visible through the windows. After a moment followed the deep, rumbling thunder. Thrawn stopped just inside the lounge, head tilted toward the window. It was not yet raining. More lightning flashed, the heat of it lingering long after the light disappeared. Soon.

He did not entirely dislike this place. It was far more appropriate for his brother than he, but it was symbolic that they’d been chosen. That both he and Thrass were destined for far greater things. It was not home, however. His place was aboard a ship, in the inky darkness of space, hurtling across the stars. He could appreciate any number of planets and their peoples, but more importantly, their art - but it would not compare to what drove him. What defined him. He was never going to settle down in this place and live out the rest of his days.

The sound of footsteps from another hallway drew his attention. They were not loud nor tentative - not an attendant, then. They were measured. Even. More thunder crashed. They did not break pace, so he knew it could not be Thrass.

“Surprised you’re up,” Came the casual greeting, the smooth-tone voice that belonged to Eli Vanto. He approached the wall length windows with a sense of wonder, hands going to his hips and eyes turned skyward. “Gonna be one hell of a storm,” He said, words lilting with the mildest twang in Sy Bisti. “Kinda reminds me of summer storms on Lysatra.”

There was a long pause, nearly an entire minute of lightning and the successive thunder before Thrawn spoke. “Do you miss it?” He asked, his Sy Bisti accented ever so slightly with Cheunh.

“Sometimes,” Eli admitted. “But not as much as I expected.” He turned his head, giving Thrawn a once over, though he could only really see the Chiss’s left side. “What’re you doing up at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Thrawn fired back, glowing eyes casting the slightest haze on his cheeks. “The hour is not entirely scandalous for a Chiss, as you no doubt know, but I do not believe it is an hour a human strives to be conscious for.”

Vanto conceded the point with an embarrassed smile. For a second, Thrawn found his eyes drawn to the curve of the other man’s mouth, then shifting up to see the similar softness in his eyes. This was the facial expression of a man Thrawn knew. He recognized Vanto’s sheepish embarrassment and knew immediately what it was. In this, at least, he knew his old comrade. It was a boon that he clung to.

“You were up working on research,” Thrawn appraised him, seeing the lingering dampness of his hair on the next lightning strike. “Your sleep cycle hasn’t reset.”

A purse of Eli’s lips indicated that Thrawn was right.

“Three days?”

“Two and a half,” The human clarified. “But technically, I was up for around four.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” Thrawn advised. “The human body is not designed for such-” He broke off, realizing he’d slipped right into command-tone, speaking to Eli as though he were the other man’s superior. It was habit. Instinct. Completely uncalled for, but the words had left his lips and could not be taken back. 

Vanto turned to face him bodily, looking up at him now. He smiled, again, and Thrawn froze. “You’re right.” Then, laughing to himself, a small huff of a thing, he added, “Sometimes I think I’d kill to be an ensign again. Only time I get a solid eight these days is when I pull kriff like this.”

Thrawn hummed, pensive. He watched Vanto’s posture, intent on being sure there was no lingering discontent from his words. “I had not meant to reprimand you,” He said. “I was merely-” Merely _what_ , exactly? Thrawn wasn’t entirely sure how to continue. Concerned? Surely he knew Vanto could take care of himself. It was unlike him to speak so carelessly.

“I know. I’m not angry.” He shrugged. In fact, he seemed amused.

It only confused the Chiss more. “You are more expressive now,” Thrawn explained. Then, he added, masking his frustration with his usual cool, “I do not understand.”

“You’re thinking too much.” Lightning flickered, and for a moment Thrawn could see the deep cinnamon-brown flecks in the depths of Vanto’s dark eyes. “I’m goin’ to go down to the kitchens and kick out whomever your dumbass brother has on duty for no reason at o’three hundred. I like makin’ my own breakfast when the situation allows. Want to join me?”

“That will undoubtedly upset Thrass,” Thrawn said. “He will-”

Vanto’s eyes sparked mischievously, one brow rising. Thrawn swallowed hard, taking in the nuance, cataloging it for later reflection. The complexities that he’d layered on, the way he was the same Eli Vanto, and yet at the same time this confident, collected Captain Ivant, all of it was overwhelming, heady. Enticing. “Tell me you don’t like pissing off your brother,” Eli prompted.

That was all the convincing it took, not that Thrawn had been planning to turn down an invitation to make further amends with his current commanding officer. “I have no idea what you mean, Captain,” Thrawn said, facial expression neutral and voice smooth as stone.

“Right,” Eli drawled. “C’mon, Commander, let’s see if I can’t turn out a decent meal with whatever delicacies the chefs keep on hand.”

“Lead the way.”

-/

“One thing I will say about the Chiss is that y’all certainly have better taste in breakfast foods than the Empire ever did.”

“You did not find their powdered protein rations enjoyable?” Thrawn asked dryly, cutting a piece of omelette with his utensil and tasting it. It was good. Not purely Chiss cuisine, but not like anything he’d eaten throughout his time with the Empire, either. It was a fusion of the two. 

“I’m a Wild Space hick, remember? My people ate real food they grew, not powder and gel.” Thrawn hummed. Eli plucked a pot of some kind of jellied sauce off a tray in the center of the expansive kitchen island and spooned a generous portion over his own. “You have this stuff? It’s kind of spicy, definitely not meant for this kind of dish, but it’s good.”

Thrawn gestured for it and Eli passed it over. “You’ve cooked in this kitchen before,” He mused, as he followed Eli’s lead. He’d had this sauce before, but it was meant for expensive and exotic meat cuts, not an egg scramble with common vegetable greens. He tried it, and found the spice to be agreeable but not overwhelming. It brought out the buttery flavor of the egg-wrapped greens.

“Yeah. Kinda spent some time here after I got back from Grysk Space.” He didn’t elaborate. Thrawn didn’t expect him to.

“So I was told,” He agreed. They ate in silence, both watching the storm through the window. The silence between them was comfortable. Familiar, with the charge of something new. “My brother considers you a friend,” He said slowly, after a while.

Eli shrugged. “That bother you?”

“Not at all,” Thrawn said, and Eli frowned. “I believe he was baiting me.”

“No doubt he was.” The human turned on his stool, facing him instead of the window in front of them both. “He was worried about you, before I went away.”

Thrawn got the feeling ‘away’ was the mission that got him and Vah’nya captured, but ignored it in lieu of keeping the mood light. “He is not all bad,” The Chiss admitted. “More infuriating than anything.”

“You can say that again,” Eli agreed. “Though I think I’d take infuriating and obtuse over genuine. The few times I’ve seen that were freaky, even for me.”

“Now I know why he likes you,” Thrawn didn’t smile, but there was a sort of warmth to his gaze, a fond quirk of his lips as he regarded his Captain. “You embrace him as he is.”

“I don’t know about that.” He returned to his meal, took a bite, chewed, and swallowed before continuing. “He’s a pain in my ass, even when we’re on the same side of an issue.”

“That is his way,” Thrawn agreed. “It’s been twenty years since I’ve spent any real time with him and he’s hardly any different than when I left.”

“That right?”

Thrawn considered it a moment. “He is a bit more over the top now. I suspect it’s due to political tensions that have put strain on his position.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Vanto said. 

“I do wonder if it is similarly related to me, though.”

A pensive look crossed Vanto’s features. “We’d be on the brink of war even if you stayed with the Empire. Seems to me like the fissures between the ruling families have gone on ignored for a while. They run deep. I’d prefer to keep them fighting it out in assemblies and council meetings rather than open warfare. The Grysk will be waiting for us, if or when that happens.”

“I think you believe it is a matter of when, not if,” Thrawn pressed.

“Perhaps,” He looked out the window as lightning struck and thunder followed, crisp and loud.

“Can you elaborate?”

This time, Eli fixed him a look. It was regretful, but resolute. “Not yet,” He said. “I’m sorry.”

Thrawn nodded. “I understand. It is… difficult.”

“Weird, you mean.” Eli smiled, small and sad. “It’s weird to be your CO. It must be even weirder to you for me to be comfortable in your family home.”

“It is strange, yes,” Thrawn supposed. “But I do not resent you for it. You are-” He stopped. Considered. “I owe you a great debt,” He said, but Eli could see the way the cogs in his mind were turning. It wasn’t what Thrawn wanted to say, or at least that’s what Eli seemed to think.

Vanto rose from his stool, taking his empty plate and Thrawn’s, rinsing them both in the sink while Thrawn sized him up, analyzing him in the following silence. He let it happen, let the Commander work through his assessment of the situation on his own. The steaming device that sterilized any used cookware and dishes was cycled on with the touch of a button before he returned to his seat, a half-drank mug of tea sitting in front of his stool. 

“I need to make something clear with you,” Eli said. “Any debt you could possibly owe me has been paid in full.”

Thrawn protested, “I do not-” But Eli held his ground.

“I wouldn’t be who I am today if you didn’t yank me out of the supply track all those years ago and insist I be your translator. I’ve learned a hell of a lot from you and I’m happy to be where I am.” Conviction laced through his words. “ _This_ is where I need to be.”

They stared at each other, irises darting back and forth, almost like some unspoken battle of wills. “I am glad you chose to come to the Ascendancy,” Thrawn said finally. A rare note of overt sincerity flavored his tone. “I do not think I have ever told you as much.”

“Yeah,” Vanto said. “Me too.”

-/

Thrass rolled his eyes spectacularly as he passed by the outdoor courtyard that had become a sparring zone. Off to one side, Un'hee and Ar'alani sat reading under a wide brimmed umbrella that blocked the glare from the sun. In the center of the courtyard, Thrawn was running a clinic, putting his stray Jedi through the paces. Show off, Thrass thought.

"Syndic," Ar'alani acknowledged, not looking up from her work. Un'hee finished the page of her book and turned in her chair to give the elder Mitth brother a smile and wave. 

"Good day," He greeted them both. "Have either of you seen our dear friend Captain Ivant?"

Ar'alani inclined her head. "Perhaps he is catching up on sleep. Humans do need more of that, and he did recently work himself silly on a project."

"You military types really are no fun," Thrass pointed out. "I simply wished to thank him for giving my kitchen staff half the night off."

"This does not concern me," Ar'alani said dismissively, returning to her datapad and reviewing whatever information was displayed upon it.

Thrass sighed. "Of course. Well, if you see him, do let me know. I love waking up to my staff gossiping about my brother and his clandestine affairs."

"I see," Ar'alani murmured to herself. "That explains why he's in a good mood."

"Which one?" Thrass groused.

"Thrawn, obviously." Across the way, Ezra grunted, trying to redirect one of Thrawn's advances with minimal success. Thrawn turned it into a teaching moment, and they began again.

"He seems… lighter, today," Un'hee agreed softly. The young navigator flinched, and Ar'alani braced herself. Sure enough, a moment later, Ezra and his practice weapon went flying with a strangled grunt.

"Well," Thrass said, tone brightening as if he remembered his audience, "I suppose that is at least something beneficial in all of this. If you see Ivant, please remind him that my staff is not to be won over or dismissed without _my_ express permission, even at all hours of the night when he feels prone to revisit his love of cooking."

"Is - But Thrawn is a member of your house," Un'hee thought aloud, face furrowing in concentration as she considered the point she wanted to make. "He could dismiss staff if he wanted to, right?"

They studied each other a moment, then Thrass laughed, eyes gleaming. "You are too smart for your own good, Navigator." Thrawn's elder brother checked to make sure he had not drawn his younger sibling's attention with the sharpness of his laugh. "Let’s keep that our little secret, shall we?" He added, conspiratorially.

Un'hee grinned and Thrass patted her once, twice on the crown of her head. Meanwhile, his gaze found the subtle upturn of Ar'alani's lips.

Softly, almost as though under her breath, she released the truth."I believe Ivant and Vah'nya had something to handle this morning," She informed him. "They will be joining us later."

"So he is not sleeping the day away after staying up all night chatting with my brother?" Thrass sounded put out. "It would have been far more enjoyable to tease him had that been the case."

Ar'alani made a show of pulling up a new report and ignoring him, to the delight of Un'hee and her bright, youthful giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Thrawn and Ezra receive their orders. Tensions rise.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Thrawn and Ezra receive their orders. Tensions rise.

Vah'nya hugged the last of the departing Navigators before they separated, the younger girls bound on a shuttle for Csilla to be sent to their next training assignments. When the shuttle hatch hissed closed, she stepped back beside Ivant, who was also dressed in uniform.

"I wish we could keep them all," She said. "I feel like they would be more successful, even if they aren't good candidates for the project. It feels like admitting failure."

Ivant put a hand on her shoulder. "I know," He said. "Perhaps in the future we'll be able to focus on a larger group, but for now it isn't feasible. Besides, that many navigators on a ship with a human in command was dicey enough. The Admiralty wasn't happy about it in the first place, even if you were the one actually overseeing them. For now, we've gotta try to fly under the radar."

"I know," Vah'nya turned her head into the cool breeze, enjoying the contrast of it with the warmth of the sun. She liked Copero's temperate climate, though she far preferred the eerie perpetual twilight and crystalline views of Csilla. "It is better that they think little of us, for now."

"Yes," Ivant agreed. "And it is safer if we do not have more Navigators aboard should anyone target us."

"You think they will," Vah'nya accused, but there was no heat behind her words. She was thinking the same thing. There were already infiltrators aboard their Admiral's ship…

Eli nodded, his lips set in a grim line. "I have no doubt they'll try."

-/

The remaining few days they spent docked on Copero were pleasant, more or less. The remaining Navigators, Vah'nya, Un'hee, and four other girls of miscellaneous age, spent a great deal of time apart from the others in a library on the uppermost level of the estate that overlooked much of Copero City. By the time it was over, Ezra found himself almost looking forward to the lessons and structure that came with the CDF's military.

Really, it’s more likely that he’s looking forward to being occupied. To action and learning. To purpose. The reprieve was nice, but Ezra truly didn’t know what to do with time that was his own anymore. At least, not unless that time came in brief, precious moments between his responsibilities. He found himself slipping away to a secluded corner of the Mitth estate to pass hours in mediation several times. He didn’t necessarily feel more centered for it, either. If anything, the slight information he’d learned from Vah’nya as an explanation for having his traumatic vision gave him the impression of pressure. He couldn’t help but feel like something was coming.

They returned to their quarters midway through the second shift. The _Compass_ was slated to follow the _Steadfast_ for the next week, according to the orders on his datapad. That seemed pretty standard. Ezra checked his message logs. There wasn’t much. Standard communications and notifications, an odd message here or there from some of the younger soldiers that Ivant had suggested he train with when Thrawn was unavailable. He wouldn’t call them friends, exactly, but since Vah’nya was the only other person around his age that he talked to, it was something.

Thrawn was pensive as they went about their shared space, and Ezra was content to slouch on the small sofa in their common room, reading some holonovel in Cheunh that would probably be a lot more interesting if he didn’t have to constantly open a new tab on his datapad to look up some wildly descriptive word.

A small, urgent ping jolted him from his most recent hunt for knowledge - really, the Chiss language was absurd, Ezra thought to himself - and he tapped the page to bookmark it before he closed it and pulled up what was surely updated orders.

Before he tucked into reading the message, he heard Thrawn moving around in his quarters. He'd approached the doorway to the common room, the one right across from the sofa, no doubt already having read the orders. Ezra didn't need to look at the Chiss to feel the anticipation wash over him.

Ezra scanned the directive. “Second shift?”

“That was your takeaway?” Thrawn asked mildly. His eyebrows didn’t even go up, but on a more overtly expressive sentient, he suspected they would have by now. 

He kicked his legs to sit up from where he lay, gesturing to the tablet. “I mean, obviously we’re going to be on the bridge. And my lessons are discontinued - _wait._ They’re discontinuing my lessons?” His voice rose, pinched. “I can barely speak semi-fluent Cheunh!”

“Your accent does need some work,” Thrawn agreed, “And you still stress incorrect syllables on most words you do know-”

“Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy,” Ezra rolled his eyes.

“But that is why you have a translator,” The Chiss finished. “I also happen to know the mechanics of every item you could possibly be tasked with. I suspect such skills will be a valuable resource to you.”

“Yeah,” Ezra huffed. “I know it will. But why the bridge crew? And why second shift? We’ve always had first.”

“Perhaps the assignments rotate,” Thrawn speculated. “However, for the Chiss, this is the preferred shift. It allows for a decent lie in, and is the one during which the more experienced staff as well as the Commander are at the helm. In the Empire, it would have been Aurek Shift. In any case,” The far more experienced Chiss took on his dry, patented teaching tone, “I don’t suggest that you ask our superiors as to why your assignment has changed. I am sure they have a good reason.”

“I’m sure Ivant has a reason. I just don’t understand why this is happening now.” He slid an innocent look in Thrawn's direction. “All of a sudden we’re being stationed on the bridge during the busiest shift of the day. Seems suspicious to me, is all I’m saying. We spend a couple of days in close quarters, and then, all of a sudden we’re made to report to the bridge every day?”

Thrawn didn’t roll his eyes, but he did give Ezra his best unimpressed glower. “I do not think it matters, so much as we will be able to determine what is going on with the situation with the Grysks. That was our primary objective in bringing you to the Ascendancy, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“How could I?” Ezra shuddered. “I’m not looking forward to it, but they clearly need to be dealt with.”

“Quite,” Thrawn agreed. “For now, I would suggest you consider the best way to rearrange your schedule to accommodate your newly altered sleep schedule.

“Yeah, okay, fine,” The young Jedi shrugged, then gave Thrawn a look. “But still, I gotta know: D’you think this is because you made up with Eli?”

The Chiss’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I do not know what you mean,” He said.

Ezra smirked. “Right. Well, all I’m saying is now you two are friends again - or whatever, I heard all about your after hours breakfast thing - and now we’re being put out into the open. I’m wondering if you earned his trust back.”

Stroking his chin, Thrawn turned away, considering for a moment. “No,” He said slowly. “I do not believe he trusts me. In fact, I believe he trusts me less.”

“Why?” At this, Ezra frowned, confused. “You two talked. I heard it was a good encounter.”

Thrawn inclined his head. “It was perfectly neutral. Amiable, even. But the Captain will not tell me anything related to his mission,” Thrawn’s eyes had a pensive aloofness to them that concerned Ezra, just a little. “By keeping us - me - closer, he dictates the flow of information surrounding a project he very much did not wish to speak about during our… discussions,” Thrawn added, having had enough time to process the emotionally challenging portions of said discussions and review the rest for the relevant clues and patterns.

“And you need to know what his project is… why, exactly?”

“I believe that Captain Ivant’s project is precisely what is preventing you or I from being involved in the kind of affairs that I suggested bringing you to the Ascendency for. We are not engaging the Grysks because the Chiss are on the brink of civil war. Perhaps Admiral Ar’alani is keeping me here under Captain Vanto because she doesn't want me to create an incident.” 

“You? Create an incident,” Ezra huffed under his breath, then met Thrawn’s gaze, brow furrowed in confusion. “It doesn’t seem smart to start a war among the Chiss when the Grysk are so close, though. And I don’t really think you’re after that. You just left one civil war - er, you know.”

Thrawn’s eyes flashed. “Indeed,” He said. It was true. Thrawn did not desire war. But battle is in a warrior’s blood, is the natural way of things. And battles were indeed on the horizon, for all of them.

“Okay,” Ezra sounded almost convinced. He rose from the couch, picking up his discarded datapad. “Here’s my counter argument,” The Jedi said, looking up into Thrawn’s calm blue features and contrasting crimson eyes. “We could ask Admiral Ar’alani to transfer us over to the _Steadfast._ That way, you can have your Grysk battles, and Ivant can keep on with his project and chasing after pirates or whatever it is we’re actually doing.”

“An interesting proposal,” Thrawn allowed, “But I was asked not to intervene with their plans.” He crossed his arms. “So for now, we must watch, and see what information we can glean.”

-/

There was a sense of hostility on the bridge. It wasn’t obvious, exactly. At first, it seemed more like things were busy, like they were in the midst of an urgent campaign. Which, in a way, they were. They were following the Steadfast at a safe level of distance, and, despite what Ezra (and to a lesser degree, Thrawn) thought, they were not after pirates. They were trailing several Grysk vessels. Three smaller, one midsize, with the idea that there was a much larger ship or base somewhere nearby.

Admiral Ar’alani checked in with Captain Ivant every second hour. So far, they were only tracing emissions and the occasional debris found from decimated freighter vessels in the sector. They weren’t anywhere near the core worlds of the Ascendancy. Ivant had explained to a curious Bridger that they currently traversed his equivalent of the mid-Outer Rim territories. It did not seem like a terribly daring venture, but there was a very real cause for concern, any threat that cropped up would necessitate a swift strike.

And when the need rose, Thrawn admittedly found himself impressed. He hadn’t seen more than a cumulative shift of bridge operations in all the months since he and Ezra had been stationed aboard the _Compass_. And it had never been in battle. 

There was no hesitation. No second guessing. He’d known - had seen this evolution of his former aide - and yet it was nothing compared to the real thing in combat. Every time Thrawn would pick up on a tactic, identify a pattern, Ivant was already there, adjusting his battle plans, anticipating the next move with startling accuracy.

Vanto was calculating. Merciless. Steady-handed. 

Thrawn found it enticing. 

This was a man who _knew_ his enemies. Who had seen what was inside their minds. Where Thrawn could deduce and analyze patterns, could process the pieces he’d seen in his extensive military career and put together an appropriate plan to negate their efforts and overtake them, Ivant flipped tactics as easily as breathing. It was clear he’d taken what he’d learned throughout the course of his own experiences and put it to good use, his adaptability a helpful tool to overcome the gaps in his experience. And, of course, whatever calculations he made were swift and accurate. At more than one juncture the Admiral herself had called upon him for lightning-quick computations and analysis.

It was not to say that all his orders were carried out to perfection. There were degrees of error. Commands not executed with the level of finesse delicate situations such as these required. These were noted, Thrawn realized. There was a sharpness to Ivant’s gaze. No facial heat, and only a mild flaring of the nostrils when something had the propensity to result in disaster, but it was rare.

And then came the day in which one of the lieutenant commanders attempted to override his command. Thrawn understood it was a risky maneuver. It wasn’t one he would have attempted himself, but a subordinate must trust and obey his superior’s commands without question if success - and therefore, victory - is to be achieved.

“Lieutenant Commander Vres’mad’indi,” Ivant said, when the action had resolved, and recovery teams from the _Steadfast_ and _Compass_ had been dispatched. There was no inflection to his tone. It was almost a purr.

It drew Thrawn’s - and the other officers’ - attention in an instant.

“What in the hell are you doing?” His voice crested, and there it was, the lilt, the residual Wild Space drawl bleeding into otherwise flawless Cheunh. “I gave you a direct order.”

“If we roll the ship at this velocity, we will not be able to-”

“Which part of my order to roll the ship _immediately_ was lost on you?” Ivant’s fists clenched and unclenched, then fell loose at his sides. His eyes burned despite their lack of luminescence.

The Lieutenant Commander’s eyes were dull, but there was defiance written into his posture. “The _Steadfast’s_ plasma spheres were being launched!”

“Do you think I was unaware of that detail?”

The Chiss under Ivant’s scrutiny grumbled under his breath. At the helm, Vah’nya twitched microscopically before bowing her head.

“If you have something to say,” Ivant said, drawl retracted, “Say it. It’s nothing that won't get back to me the moment you’re out of sight.”

“A human does not deserve this place,” He snarled. “Your kind are a blight on our people. The Chiss do not need you or your endangered sorcerers.”

Ivant nodded. “I see. Have you shared your opinions with the Admiral?”

He straightened, red eyes blazing now, fury just barely restrained. “I have.”

“And here I stand,” Ivant said, gesturing to his place on the command walkway. “A suggestion, Lieutenant Commander: If you do not like my orders and do not feel comfortable asking me, take it up with the Admiralty or the Aristocra itself _after_ the action has ended. If you ever endanger my ship and its crew again, a public dressing-down for insubordination will be the least of your concerns.” He turned his back, shoulders falling loose with released tension. “If you’d been monitoring the board, you’d know that the Steadfast was moving upward to point seven-three. When we rolled, the shield deviation would have put us just far enough beneath our flagship that we would have been out of range of the plasma bursts.” He turned to his second who stood beside his command chair, watching the situation with heavy eyes. “Get him out of my sight.”

“Yes sir,” Newly minted Commander Wes’las’handi dipped his head and approached the insubordinate Lieutenant Commander. “Come along, Lieutenant Esmadi,” He said. Thrawn noted that a low, displeased note hid in the Commander's tone. Around them, the bridge settled back into standard after-action activity. Ezra remained stiff beside him, no doubt feeling off-kilter as he happened to be human, too.

Esmadi threw up his hands and held them out in front of him. He’d leave the bridge of his own volition. Prideful, all the way to the end. Thrawn wouldn’t be surprised to hear of the man’s transfer and demotion for such a stunt. He took a moment to scan the rest of the faces, to note the reaction and posture of everyone else on the bridge, trying to get a glimpse of how far down this discontent went. Typically such officers weren’t alone.

“Commander Esmadi is a new transfer from the _Steadfast_ ,” Ezra said into his thoughts. “Navigator Vah’nya told me yesterday.”

“I see,” Thrawn said. “He took Commander Slasha’s place following his promotion,” He speculated. Ezra nodded. “Do not put yourself in a situation where you are alone with him.”

“Yeah, I don’t plan to.” Ezra said. “I thought everyone on the bridge was loyal to him,” The Jedi murmured.

There were many kinds of loyalty. Loyalty to a person, an organization, a belief. There were many reasons for loyalty. Loyalty to a person was earned. In outsiders like Vanto, it was possible to find divides in which an individual was loyal to the greater whole - in this case, the Ascendancy - but not loyal to their commanding officer, a human outsider.

Vanto’s eyes met his, and one eyebrow went up in a silent question. Thrawn frowned. At that, the Captain approached. “Your thoughts, Commander Thrawn.”

Unlike the previous days and weeks before, there was no childish mouthing of ‘Commander _Thrawn_ ’ from Ezra who always managed to position himself in Ivant’s blind spot. Thrawn was careful to speak softly. “Is this a frequent occurrence?”

At that, Vanto laughed, his anger from the situation already fully diffused. His smile was almost fond, remembering something, eyes crinkling at the edges with new lines brought on by age and stress. “Not anymore. We’ve had some personnel changes since we docked,” He raised his eyebrows. “Happens. They get over it or move on. The Admiral loves pulling them back into her remedial programs.”

“I recall,” Thrawn said. “How much of a threat is this to Bridger?”

Ivant inclined his head to the Jedi. “None,” He said, but his eyes said something else entirely. His eyes were guarded, cautious. “They may meddle with him,” Ivant whispered in lilting Basic the rest of the crew did not understand, “But their ultimate target will be me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Vah’nya teaches Ezra something new. Thrawn miscalculates.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Vah'nya teaches Ezra something new. Thrawn miscalculates.

Vah'nya sat entirely motionless in Ivant's office located just off the main bridge. Her eyes were not closed but barely open, their muted red glow creating a soft purple gradient against her cheeks. In her lap, her hands were folded as if serene. Every so often, they would twitch or jerk, but the rest of the time they remained still and unmoving.

When the door to the hallway opened, she did not stir. Ivant moved slowly. He did not raise the lights, nor did he comment on the Navigator sitting behind his desk. Methodically, he retrieved two mugs from a cabinet that by all accounts would have held liquor if it were a more traditional Chiss officer in command, filled the equally out of place kettle, and programmed the warming pad. 

Once the water reached optimal temperature, Ivant pulled two sachets of tea from the back of a drawer. The smell was grounding - frosty wintermint with the subtlest hint of Csillan evergreen. He dipped one sachet in each mug, set one before the Navigator sitting at his desk and sat down as if he were the visitor. He picked up the datapad he’d left on the chair when he’d arrived, muted the brightness as not to be blinding, and tasked himself with requisitions and reports while he waited.

After a few moments, she shuddered and came back to herself. 

“Still too hot to drink,” Ivant said mildly, not yet looking at her. She wrapped long, slender fingers around it anyway. It was a familiar motion. An anchor.

“How long?”

“I’ve been here for about fifteen minutes.”

Vah’nya nodded. “Then I have been here for about an hour,” She commented. Then, delicately, she added, “Something is coming.” She watched him turn off his datapad and set it aside. The Navigator scrubbed at her face. “The Jedi’s meditation helps,” She told him. “Things are clearer than if I were only to see.”

“Have you any control over it?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. But I feel as though I can recall more detail. I see-” She closed her eyes and exhaled, focusing. “I was on a Grysk vessel. You were there. I did not see you, but I felt... But it was not like before,” She was quick to correct. Her grip on the teacup was the only thing that kept her fingers from shaking. “We were not alone.”

“Who?”

“I’m not sure. Other Chiss,” She said. “I remember,” She trailed off, looking up at him. “They had the Jedi.”

Ivant sighed, rising from his seat and rounding the desk to tap the consoles that faced where Vah’nya was sitting. “I have to tell her.”

“Yes,” She agreed slowly. “I-” She flinched. “Even now, _after_ ,” She emphasized, “I can feel the malaise, Eli. It’s close. It’s not just they Grysk. There’s something-”

“I know,” Eli said softly. He keyed the required combination that would ping the Admiral directly but discreetly. While they waited, he stepped to the side of her, reaching across the desk for his own mug, taking a sip of the soothing tea while his free hand squeezed her shoulder, encouragingly. “It’ll be alright,” He told her.

“I hope so,” Vah’nya murmured, looking up to him in concern while the Admiral’s face appeared on the holo projector, face tense, but not quite surprised. Vah’nya was certain they were all tired of relying on the vagueness of hope.

-/

“I wish to teach you how we,” The Navigator smiled, “For a lack of a better term, how we navigate,” Vah’nya explained, approaching Ezra when he and Thrawn arrived at their station three days after Commander Esmadi’s outburst. “It is a valuable skill, should you never need to do so without warning and you do not have someone like Commander Thrawn to guide you through it.”

Ezra had not seen or heard from Vah’nya since they’d returned to the _Compass_ following their time in Copero City. There was a sort of severe quality about her now. He got the sense that she hadn’t been sleeping, though the glow of her eyes and her deeply blue complexion hid any traces of bags or dark shadows.

He also had the feeling Thrawn was seeing the same thing that he was, considering the way the Chiss Commander scrutinized her. Instead of her hair being in a free-fall or the braids other navigators had adopted, Vah’nya’s hair was pulled back in a very sharp knot at the apex of her crown, her long mane cascading like a pin-straight waterfall from the bottom of it.

Beyond the glow of her eyes, Ezra recognized a grim sort of determination in her gaze. Wary, yes, but he knew without a doubt that he needed to listen to her. Whatever her reason was to teach him now, it was important. He looked to Thrawn, but found his attention being held by that of Ivant, standing alone on the command walk. Ivant wasn’t looking at him, even, his back was to them. But there was something about it, about how he was standing alone, looking out at the stars and the _Steadfast_ in the distance.

Ivant turned toward them. His face was blank as he gave the order to his second. 

“Clear the bridge,” Commander Slasha’s lips curved, as if he’d already anticipated the order. There was a good chance he had already been informed of the maneuver about to take place, Ezra realized. In total, it took no more than a minute for the bridge to be cleared, the Commander inclining his head to Ivant before striding off to the secondary control room where the bridge staff would be able to monitor the situation without being physically present.

Without preamble, Admiral Ar’alani’s voice echoed across the bridge speakers. “You are ready to begin, Captain?”

“Yes, Admiral. Just getting underway now,” Ivant informed her.

“Excellent. We will rig for stealth and await your return.”

Vah'nya led Ezra to the navigation console, the two seats located at the bow of the ship, with a perfect view of the stars. She explained how each lever and knob worked, then how she utilized her Sight to navigate to and from a destination. She explained how sometimes it was as simple as following a heading or emissions, and other times, it was from memory. The latter was what he would need to learn. Navigating with the assistance of coordinates was a much easier affair. Navigating to a place in the abyss of space without it was something else entirely.

When they were ready, Vah'nya nodded to Ivant, and Thrawn was motioned over to the Captain's side, instead of lingering just behind and to the left of his seat at the controls. 

"We will compare," Vah'nya said. "The secondary controls are not actively capable of steering the ship. However, you will treat this as a simulation. We will see how your choices match up with mine. If you score highly enough, you will be responsible for bringing us back, while I man the secondary controls. Understand?"

Ezra did. They both looked back up to the command walkway. Ivant and Thrawn stood side by side, talking quietly. It seemed Ivant was explaining what would be happening to Thrawn. Vah'nya nudged his shoulder, gracing him with a sly smile. "It is obvious now, hmm?"

The Jedi huffed, covering his laugh. Now that Thrawn had told him just about every detail of his and Ivant’s together, it was easy to see. Sure, Thrawn had the underlying desire to learn about Ivant's secret project, but he was acting carefully within the limits he'd been given, much to the surprise of everyone, it seemed. Thrawn's body language, still rigid and militaristic, and his eyes gave him away. There was pride, but it wasn't in himself. Trust, as if Eli could lead him blindly and he'd welcome the loss of control. Yeah, it was obvious, all right. "About as obvious as an Imperial Star Destroyer," Ezra said.

Vah’nya hummed. “Glaringly so,” She agreed.

“I guess my question is whether or not he cares about him - like that,” Ezra was quick to specify, “back.”

The Navigator straightened. “There are a great many things you do not know about our Captain,” She said. “You, and Mitth’raw’nuruodo both.”

“That’s what I mean,” Ezra said. “I just-” He sighed. “He doesn’t express feelings like that. I don’t think he ever has, at least. Not recently. And I don’t want-”

Vah’nya squeezed his shoulder, seeing through to the heart of what he was trying to say. “You are a good friend, Ezra’Bridger. He is lucky to have you.” She smiled softly. “Eli wants what is best for him. I promise you.”

“This all feels sudden, is all,” Ezra said. “All of a sudden-”

“He is still being kept at arm’s length,” Vah’nya said. “Eli has simply made the line known. The only difference is in perspective. But,” She admitted, “It will not be forever.”

“I hope not,” Ezra said. “Thrawn and I came back to help. Not to sit around and wait.”

She smirked. “Eli.” 

Captain Ivant turned to them expectantly, breaking off from his quiet conversation with Thrawn. Thrawn looked surprised, but Vah’nya didn’t waver from lack of protocol.

“Vah’nya,” He said back, and there was respect there. Respect of equals. Partners. Thrawn looked between them in a way that Ezra couldn’t miss. No doubt he was considering their shared history, and not for the first time. “At your leisure.”

“Let us begin,” She replied, nodding to him before returning her attention to Ezra. “If the bridge crew were here, he would give the order and we would begin the route. Because they are not, we may go at our own speed. Our Sight is much like the senses you use during battle. We will use them to keep the ship clear of any dangers, like other ships and anomalies like solar flares, asteroids, and sunspots.” Vah’nya keyed the comm system. “Bridge control, this is Senior Navigator Vah’nya. Standby for jump.”

The comms hissed. “Acknowledged.”

“I like to give them a heads up,” She said, nodding to indicate the lever that would propel the ship to lightspeed. “We will trigger it together.”

Ezra looked back at Thrawn. The Chiss nodded. Beside him, Ivant’s eyes were cool and contemplative, jaw set. “Okay,” The human said. He positioned his right hand on the edge of the hyperdrive lever and Vah’nya matched him like a mirror, her left hand on the left edge. “Ready when you are.”

The Navigator dipped her head, beginning to push. “Now.”

-/

The stars blurred, and Ivant immediately queued up three separate holo screens. He sat back in the command chair, Thrawn watching him carefully but not approaching.

“I know you want to know what I’m doing,” Vanto mused after a cursory glance to assure all the information he was looking for to be present. “It’s not a secret. This is a test.”

Thrawn joined him, lingering on his right side, so close that his tunic brushed the arm of the command chair. “Comparing him with Vah’nya in real time?”

“That, and the rest of the Navigators aboard.” He motioned to the lower portion of the middle screen. “All five navigators, Vah’nya, and Ezra. This run is relatively straightforward. The Admiral wanted me to compare them all to each other. And, as this is a much smaller group than the one we had before, I have the facilities aboard to test them all at once. Simulations are no good. In the younger navigators, it tends to overstimulate them, since their brains are looking for physical stimuli but they’re trying to outsmart a computer program.”

“Their Sight can work like that,” Thrawn mused, “But it does seem as though it would cause more harm than good.”

“Right.” Something blipped on the screen in front of them, automatically outside of parameters and thus blocked immediately in yellow. “It appears Navigator Un’hee is ahead of the curve.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ivant said. “The rest are clustered in the same half second. They’re not as well versed with this region, but it’s on the edge of the Hegemony. Un’hee is familiar with this sector.”

“You would have them trial through Grysk space?”

“Technically,” Ivant said with a wry look, “It’s _our_ space.” He inclined his head to Thrawn, even more amused, “They just haven’t gotten the memo.” 

“They’ve encroached significantly on our space,” Thrawn said. “We have been pushed back by entire systems in some areas.”

Eli nodded. “Yes, that’s true. All unoccupied systems, ones we don’t particularly need, unless you’re house Chaf and you’re very concerned about where your imported liquor was coming from.” He smirked. “I saw your friend over it.”

“My friend?”

“Ah,” The smirk sharpened a little, revealing a peek of white teeth. “Maybe not the right word. Your _gift_ to the Admiral.”

“Admiral Ar’alani gave Ronan to house Chaf?”

“As a ‘Liason,’” Ivant revealed, then nudged him with his shoulder. Thrawn almost commented on it, but remembered that he was not the superior. This wasn’t particularly against protocol, considering Admiral Ar’alani had the tendency to latch _tightly_ to her subordinate’s arms, occasionally to the point of bruising when she insisted upon retaining one’s attention. “They deserve each other, if you ask me. Apparently after they got over their mutual disdain of each others’ species, they gave him the ability to wear a cape again. Only difference is that it’s neon yellow.” He smirked, “She tried to give him to Thrass first, but your brother refused him within five seconds of meeting him.”

Thrawn smirked at that. “He’s not a complete imbecile. That man is… exhausting.”

“Thrass suggested giving him to House Inrokini, but Sarvchi’s at least somewhat friendly to non-Chiss. Wasn’t like we were trying to kill him. He still calls me a traitor, though,” Eli mentioned. “He was Chaf’s representative sent to see me on my deathbed. Made sure to tell me I was a turncoat, but at least I did something with my life. Only mentioned Krennic twice that I could remember, but I was pretty out of it.” At Thrawn’s pensive frown, he added, “I think I started recovering as he said the words out of spite.”

“That is hardly possible,” Thrawn said. His gaze bordered on intense as he shifted to a more serious topic. “Still, I regret that I was not able to come to you sooner. I would have-”

Vanto turned in the chair, his knees brushing Thrawn’s thigh. The Chiss looked down at the point of contact, but didn’t move away. “We can’t change the past, Thrawn.”

“I know, Eli.” He looked down into Vanto’s eyes. At his sides, his fingers twitched microscopically with the urge to reach up and touch his captain’s face, to affirm eye contact between them with a physical aid. This was wholly inappropriate, some part of him knew. And yet, he couldn’t stop now. This territory was new, begging to be explored. “But the future…”

“Thrawn,” Eli murmured in warning. 

Around them, the starlines stuttered and stopped. Vah’nya and Ezra’s heads came up. The Navigator recovered first and immediately turned to the Jedi. He seemed shaken, but Vah’nya instructed him very easily through the post-procedures, including comming the bridge crew on standby.

The Chiss jerked backwards with the slightest twitch. Vanto’s hands, which had come up to prevent Thrawn’s from reaching their intended destination, braced his forearms. He blinked. “Forgive me, Captain,” He said, stepping back. “I don’t know what came over me.”

There was no facial heat, no indication Vanto was particularly moved by the moment they’d just shared. To Thrawn, it seemed that Eli didn’t perceive anything having happened between them at all. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Then, Ivant dismissed him. It struck like a blow. “You should join your charge. No doubt he could use your expertise.”

“Of course, sir.” Thrawn dipped his head respectfully, resisting the urge to move faster, to put distance between them and whatever this had almost been. His voice sounded like it’d been dragged through gravel and shards of jagged transparisteel. “Excuse me.”

The Captain watched him go. As Thrawn descended the two steps down to the Navigators’ station Ezra met his eyes over the Commander’s shoulder. It lasted only a three-count before Thrawn was upon him and he turned away. Eli leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs, steepling his fingers over his mouth. He allowed himself one lengthy, covert sigh before turning his eyes to the status board and comparing the numbers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Ezra tries to navigate the fallout.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Ezra tries to navigate the fallout.

One step forward, two steps back.

The Chiss didn’t have a literal translation for this phrase, but that didn’t exactly matter. It still counted. Ivant had taught Un’hee the meaning of this phrase some time ago, when she’d heard him mutter it under his breath and not understood what the strange sounds were that made up his peoples’ Basic. 

Un’hee had known something was wrong the moment Eli had called her into his office. She’d also known that her being called upon had nothing to do with the first part. Though, she had to give it to him. He played it well. She wouldn’t have known anything had happened, if she hadn’t crossed Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo on her way to see him. Vah’nya eyed her strangely from the corner of the room.

“You did well, Un’hee. Better than the rest of the Navigators,” Ivant informed her.

“Even better than Vah’nya?”

Vah’nya smiled into the mug of tea she cradled between her hands. “Yes, Un’hee,” She said. “And Bridger, too, though we can hardly consider a first-timer decent competition.”

Ivant was quick to defend his fellow human. “He fell within the limits. He also did a damn good job of getting us back considering he’d never had to navigate a ship this way before.”

“I didn’t have to take the reins, not even once,” Vah’nya considered. "I was surprised."

“So why am I here?” Un’hee asked. “And why is Thrawn-”

“Ah,” Ivant scratched the back of his head. “You ran into him, didn’t you?”

“He was projecting _again,_ Eli,” Un’hee frowned, accusing, “You’re hurting him.”

“Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo is hurting himself,” Vah’nya defended, instead. “He makes his own choices.”

When both girls fixed each other with glares, Vanto held his hands out in a pacifying gesture. “Both of you need to stop,” He said gravely. “Whatever is happening between me and Thrawn is our business.”

“Right,” Un’hee said, displeased. “No offense,” She continued, playing with the end of her singular braid, “But I know there’s all sorts of ‘need to know’ things happening around here, and this is going to become one of them quicker than you think.”

Vah’nya and Eli shared a look, both showing some array of worry and panic. “Un’hee,” The Senior Navigator began patiently, “Why do you say that?”

The girl shrugged, leaving them in suspense for a moment. Then, “I talked to Ezra last night,” She admitted. “He told me that Thrawn is worried because of what happened on the bridge yesterday.”

“He told you? You haven’t been near him,” Ivant said pointedly.

“I have a datapad,” Un’hee rolled her eyes. “And we’re friends. _And_ ,” She emphasized, “Vah’nya wasn’t around to talk to. Ezra actually messaged me because he couldn’t get a hold of you,” She pointed at Vah’nya. “He was worried.”

Vah’nya tilted her head. “I was occupied,” She answered.

“Yeah, I know.” She crossed her arms. “We all know what happened. You had a vision.”

“You all?”

“We’re not stupid,” Un’hee rolled her eyes. “You didn’t cut our numbers back because we’re the weakest of the bunch. I noticed it first, but I wasn’t the only one.”

“You’re getting awful mouthy, Navigator,” Ivant said, his tone not quite stern, but the undercut of a warning lingered all the same. He evaluated her silently, and she squirmed under the scrutiny.

“I just don’t think that pushing him away is smart,” The younger navigator admitted. “I feel like that’s a bad idea.”

Ivant sighed, rubbing at his temples before speaking. The first bit sounded almost like an admission. “I don’t like it either, Un’hee, but it’s not about what I like or don’t like. Those orders came from Admiral Ar’alani. And, regardless of how I feel, it’s the smartest choice. The more he knows about the project, the more danger he’s in, and by extension, you and your sisters.”

She looked down and away, halfway between disappointed and ashamed. “We aren’t going to let the Grysk have him, or any of us,” She urged, looking to him for confirmation. “Right?”

“Not if we can help it,” Ivant assured her. “But I won’t lie to you, Un’hee. I can’t tell you it would never happen.”

Nodding the girl rose to her feet, pressing both hands down on his desk. “I know. I’m just worried,” She inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring as she reigned in the sharpness of her feelings.

“I’m worried too,” He said. She didn’t need him to tell her that, she could see it in the crinkling lines on his forehead, the way he pursed his lips. “I wish there was another way.”

Un’hee wanted to tell him there was, that surely Thrawn could help them, and they could figure it all out together, but she didn’t know what the Grysks were planning. She didn’t _want_ to know. But something told her she’d be finding it out regardless. She turned to look at Vah’nya, but Vah’nya looked down into her mug with blank, expressionless eyes.

Un’hee resisted the urge to shudder. Something bad was coming, and she was pretty sure Vah’nya had already seen it.

-/

Ezra usually gave Thrawn a wide berth when he was like this. The man was not above the occasional bout of cathartic destruction to release energy, but after about an hour of miscellaneous growling and banging and muttering, the Jedi very carefully knocked on his roommate's door and stepped back, waiting.

"What." Thrawn looked put together, but then again, he always did. His eyes were definitely scary though. Very _Grand Admiral Thrawn_ of him, Ezra thought. And it made sense now, looking back. After all, at the end, the Grand Admiral had been out of control. He pushed the thought away, along with all of his thoughts about how if Thrawn snapped, he'd be in big trouble.

"Firing sims." Ezra indicated the weapons belt slung over his shoulder. He didn't waste words, already aware he was poking the beast on this one. "Wanna join?"

Thrawn eyed him, and Ezra saw the faintest indication of a snarl on his lips that came and went almost imperceptibly. "I do not want your pity."

"Pity?" Ezra shook his head. "Look, I don't know what happened, I-" Well, that wasn't quite true. He knew something had happened, he just didn't know the details. Except that Thrawn was clearly reeling from some emotional blow Ivant had dealt him, and everything he'd been talking to Vah'nya about had unironically come true.

"And there it is," The Chiss hissed, reading Ezra's face. "I wish to be alone," He snapped, already toggling the door controls.

Ezra caught it with a hand, reversing the hydraulic mechanism with the Force before Thrawn could turn away.

"Look, I don't pity you,” The Jedi began sharply. “I'm your friend, and I _care._ " He sighed. "If you want to continue slamming things around alone, fine. But you could go shoot something in the sim rooms and that's got to be way more satisfying with a lot less consequence."

"Is that what you do when you are distressed about this sort of thing?"

Ezra's eyebrows went up. "Listen, my teenage years were one big 'ol nightmare, in case you forgot. The girl I liked had just discovered she wasn't into guys." He finished with an innocent shrug. 

"Sabine Wren," Thrawn said.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ezra waved Thrawn's words away like they were a bad joke. "It was obvious to everybody but me. You probably saw it in her art."

"The colors she used in her later pieces were more indicative of self discovery," Thrawn mused, but the human didn't take offense.

Ezra laughed. "Well, if you ever want to hear a hilarious story about your ex-enemy's colossal failure at romance, you let me know." He stepped back, and angled his hands down, indicative that he wouldn't try to stop Thrawn this time if that's what he chose.

Thrawn eyed him carefully for a brief moment, considering. Then, his shoulders relaxed infinitesimally. Ezra considered it a victory. "The sims on the lower levels will be unoccupied at this part of the shift."

"Sounds good to me," Ezra said. He didn't look over Thrawn's shoulder at the chaos that had befallen his belongings, politely ignoring the wreckage the Chiss would have to set to rights later on. He couldn’t, however, help but notice the cracked screen of the datapad on the ground in the doorway, beside Thrawn's left foot. "Do we need to stop at the quartermaster on the way back?"

"My datapad is fine, Bridger."

"Right." He seemed less than convinced, but didn't argue. "Well, if it's not, I think I have an extra one."

Before he took a step, Thrawn glanced down at it. With a nudge of his foot, it skittered to the side. The screen flickered pitifully. "Perhaps,” He relented, “We should visit the quartermaster afterall."

Ezra cracked a smile. "Probably wouldn't hurt."

-/

It had been a moment of miscalculation. At least, that's what Thrawn told himself. After all, what else could it be? It was as if he had been speaking Galactic Basic and Vanto had been speaking Sy Bisti. The translations were similar, but not equal, not entirely. Each language had its own nuances, own minute, tiny discrepancies. Undercurrents. Hidden meanings.

And, most importantly, to his shame, they had been on the bridge, of all places. Otherwise devoid of crew or not, the entire situation had been so vastly inappropriate. If a subordinate had approached him in this manner, he wouldn't have been half as kind. Or kind at all, really. The thought of it brought a rare heat to his cheeks. 

Thankfully, his only company at the present was one very overprotective human Jedi who could not see the subtle glow in infrared, and was too distracted by his current simulation to note the mildest purple tint to Thrawn's cheeks, to see the evidence of his shame manifest.

What had come over him? It was not as though he were a fool. He understood desire, though he had not felt it in a long, long time. He would not have acted, he knows, if he did not think his feelings - feelings he was only just understanding the depths of, himself - were reciprocated.

But they were not. 

Frankly, he should not feel as surprised as he did to find it so. It was one thing to be forgiven for his transgressions. Returning his feelings was something… other. Something more than Thrawn deserved. After all, Eli might be grateful for the end results of his manipulation, but it was manipulation all the same. As such, Thrawn could hardly blame the younger man for not being similarly interested in him, considering.

But he had cared for Vanto for a long time. Perhaps loved him for nearly as long, too. Hindsight was a valuable tool, but feelings were intricate, crystalline and fragile. And now, in his position, Vanto had to put his command, his duty first. Thrawn understood that as well.

He raised his weapon and unloaded an obscene amount of plasma upon the targets as they appeared. The smell of ozone, the smoky aftertaste of violent discharge did help.

It didn't change the way his chest felt heavy, or the way his mind seemed to cycle through possibilities, producing increasingly infuriating irrationalities, though, and after a third, flawless run of the console's most difficult offering he growled, holstering his weapon.

At this, Ezra stopped. He stepped back, then turned to look at Thrawn. "The Jedi part of me is supposed to give you some sage life advice, I'm sure," He said carefully. "But I've gotta be honest with you. There's nothing I can say to make it better. It just karking sucks."

"I have never-" Thrawn shook his head, as if surprised to find himself in this moment, as if waking up from a dream. Of all the individuals to have this conversation with, he thought sardonically. At least the Jedi was well-intending. Having this conversation with his brother, for instance, would have been far more mortifying. "I do not make these sort of… miscalculations," He said, scathingly.

"You're not perfect, Thrawn. I know that might be surprising to you, but you're not. And that's not a bad thing."

The Chiss looked away from the Jedi's clear blue gaze and ignored his comments entirely. "You clearly got over your previous… infatuation," He said, uncomfortably. "How?"

Ezra looked more uncomfortable than gloating. "Have you never-"

"Of course I have," Thrawn snapped. This entire situation was absurd. And yet, this was the only human for… well, aside from Eli, he might be one of fewer than a hundred in the Unknown Regions, not to mention the only other one within the Ascendancy's ranks of (reasonable trustworthiness), at that. He was a resource, as loathe as Thrawn was to admit he needed the assistance. "But not," He sighed. "Nothing like this."

"Okay. Well, I don't know how Chiss do it, but I kind of let it out…” As if realizing exactly what kind of admission he’s about to lay before Thrawn, he flushes. “I, uh, I don't think - if you'd want me to explain to you now teenage humans do things-"

"I get the idea," Thrawn gestured, leaning back towards the side of absurdity. He could be this brat's parent, he thought, swearing mentally. Jedi wisdom be damned. 

"W-well, okay. Look. It sucks. I'm guessing it's worse since you're always right and this time you weren't-" He ducked his head at Thrawn's very displeased glare. "I'm also guessing anyone else you ever saw was either some military fling to blow off steam, no strings attached, or someone who liked you and you got bored quickly." Ezra looked expectant.

"The Force told you that?"

"Nah. We're both warm blooded. Besides, you can't be _that_ old."

Thrawn's eyebrows went up in a sinister arch. "Remind me again how we've gone this long without killing each other?"

Ezra's shrug was over the top. "I'd say it's because we needed each other to survive, but you keep me around for the comedy."

"Right," Thrawn growled, not willing to argue that ridiculous point. "Your point, Bridger?" 

"My point is that it sucks for now, sure, but it'll fade. Sabine and I worked through it. Now she's like a sister to me. Maybe Vanto could be like a brother to you."

Thrawn clenched his fists. 

"Or," Ezra said carefully, recognizing the sharp snap of the Chiss’s frustration, his miserable anger, "He could come around. I mean, you were on the bridge."

"While I realize you're trying to soften the blow, I do not believe either outcome to be remotely achievable."

"Well," The Jedi shrugged. "If you want, I can talk to my sources and see what they think."

"Absolutely not," Thrawn said. "If it does not happen of his own volition, I'll not have it happen at all. Perhaps in this instance it is best I come to terms with swift and utter defeat."

Ezra tried to argue, but it was clear that Thrawn was finished listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Un’hee recognizes something from her past.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Un'hee recognizes something from her past.

There was a distinct fuzziness, a sort of rounded softness to Un’hee’s vision as she reported for her watch shift on the bridge. She doubted there would be anything of note, for the last week, since Eli had tested all the Navigators at once, they’d been drifting at quarter speed, patrolling the interior edge of their current sector, making wide, elegant arches around any planetoids or moons. Nothing was amiss. By all indicators, it should be a relatively boring shift.

And yet… Un’hee couldn’t help the uncomfortable foreboding feeling that unfurled in her belly. It felt like she was walking through a dream, a lucid dream, waiting for the moment when she would wake up.

She stood at Eli’s elbow for as long as he’d let her. There was a level of business that almost didn’t make sense. Her fingers curled over his arm when he stood, intent to escort her to the Navigator’s console. To her left, in the crew pit, Ezra looked up at her and smiled. She braved a smile of her own, but it was forced. She looked up, and Eli was looking down.

They didn’t speak. She squeezed gently, and if her hand trembled a little, he didn’t comment on it. She sat at her seat and closed her eyes, intent to pretend she had a headache. Really, she just wanted to listen. Something wasn’t right. The last few weeks, she’d felt the general unease, the tension. She knew Vah’nya had felt it too, but not like Un’hee had been. Vah’nya was dreaming of things to come. Things, the older Navigator said, that weren’t close. Not yet.

Un’hee felt that feeling she’d felt back on Copero. Like they were balanced on a knife’s edge, like it was made of ice. Something was about to slip, they were going to fall. Like there was a divide. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, her vision going red like their glow, the infrared of her hands a soothing wash for the pressure in her mind.

A warm hand pressed against her back and she straightened. She shook her head, already anticipating the Captain’s question. “I am fine,” She insisted.

Ivant looked down at her, concern swirling in his gaze. He waited, hoping she’d come clean, but someone on the right side of the crewpit called to him over a passive sensor reading and he patted her once on the arm before turning away.

The shift was long because it was painfully boring. Like the rest of the days and weeks since Lieutenant Esmadi’s outburst, the Captain did not leave the bridge for the entirety of the shift, though he did spend a great deal of time in his command chair, reviewing reports on his datapad.

Only once did Ezra get up and approach her, and even then, it was brief, to check if she was okay on his way to speak to the Captain, to update him of their status. When he was behind her, she cast a glance at Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo. He sat in the seat beside the one Ezra had vacated, but his attention was honed in on the monitor they shared. 

Like all of his gazes had been recently, they were focused, intense. When the first officer leaned over Thrawn, pointing at, then likely discussing whatever it was Ezra was currently reporting to Ivant, the Chiss didn’t look up at his fellow Commander. Un’hee caught the subtlest hint of his withdrawn, subdued emotions before they were wrestled back down, and the smooth veneer of stoic calm resurfaced. 

She knew he was hiding his emotions. She knew he was good at it, too. He was a frightening man, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. But he was protective, and he cared, and at his heart, despite the things he’d done before, Un’hee knew he was good. She also knew he didn’t like it when someone stared at him, so when his red, calculative gaze swung her way, she went back to looking out the viewport at the subtly shifting stars.

Commander Slasha came over to her not long after, one hand tucked in the other behind his back. “Navigator Un’hee,” He said politely. He almost looked a little warm, though he didn't quite glow in the infrared. “Enjoying the view?”

She hummed, not particularly in the mood for conversation. “It is not a bad one,” She supposed, “Though I do not particularly enjoy being out this far.”

“That is fair,” Commander Slasha agreed. “It would be nice to patrol closer to Csilla, or even back toward Sarvchi,” He said neutrally. “The Path of the Houses is a much better view.”

Un’hee considered, sucking her lower lip between her teeth. She didn’t like it when someone stood behind and over her. It was a reminder of the Grysks and their Scratchlings. “Yes, I suppose,” She said, leaning forward. “Less Grysk sightings, too,” She added, in an attempt to be sociable.

Commander Slasha nodded, a wry laugh wrung from his lips. “I’d better check on our weapons officers,” He said softly. “Without anything to do and nothing on their targeting monitors, I wouldn’t be surprised to find them nodding off.”

Nodding off? Un’hee frowned as he left her station. None of their people would ever do something so disgraceful. Even the youngest of Navigators rarely slept on duty, and it was usually related to situations beyond their control - illness, growth spurts, over-stimulation, things like that. But even then, such a thing was rare. It was why there were typically the same number of both younger and older Navigators aboard a ship.

She sighed. Without anyone standing over her shoulder the detached, far-away feeling she had been feeling most of the day returned with a vengeance. She curled in on herself, taking a deep breath. Something told her she needed to focus. That undercurrent of static in her mind sharp and loud, creating contrast. Something was going to happen. Something was-

_Wrong._

Un'hee's head shot up. She looked left, then right, as if something had just made a loud sound. When there was nothing, only the ambient voices of the bridge, the faint beeping of the passive sensors, nothing to signal the beginnings of chaos, she pressed both hands to her chest, over her thumping heart. Exhaled. 

Maybe she was a little paranoid, she thought to herself, trying to catch her breath. 

Then came the slam.

It came from the left. It was not terribly loud, but to Un'hee, it was deafening. She turned in her seat, looking over. Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo's hand was braced on the console, and Ezra was looking over at him with concern. He looked… his face had a sheen to it. Like he was unwell. His chest heaved once and then stopped. His hands came up, clumsy and sluggish, like he didn't have proper control of his extremities.

Then, his back arched sharply as he began to convulse and Ezra screamed.

Un'hee didn't think. She didn't look back at Eli to see his unabashed horror and panic. She moved. She ducked under the arms of the three closest officers and found herself at Thrawn's side. Her eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of her skull when she knelt down opposite Ezra. 

Over their heads, she heard Ivant yelling for medical, demanding order and a status on Thrawn. Whatever Ezra said was lost to her, because she was unable to look away from him. Thrawn’s eyes were half open slits of fading luminous red, and his lips were moving but she had no idea what he was saying.

Thrawn's eyes found Un'hee, and the young Chiss watched his hands spasm on his chest while he struggled for breath. His chest wasn't rising. He wasn't breathing, Un'hee realized. It was his lungs. It was-

"Poison," Commander Slasha said gravely, appearing over them. He reached down for Ezra and pulled him to his feet, only for the Jedi to jerk away from him defensively.

Un'hee gasped, grasping at Mitth’raw’nuruodo's tunic and wrenching open the sealing strips. She might be young, but she was more experienced than most of the crew when it came to this. She knew what this was. Knew it before she yanked up Thrawn's black undershirt just under his armpits. Her eyes flew up and around, immediately defensive.

"Everyone get away from him!" She hollered, shrill and defensive. She knew what this was, she thought again, the thought repeating itself on an endless loop of static as she shouted, "Get away from him right now!"

Nobody listened. She closed her eyes, willed back her tears, and met Ezra's gaze. He and Commander Ivant were the only two people who were trustworthy. Only them.

"Step. _Back_ ," The Jedi said, his intrinsic powers snapping through the last word. He brought his power to bear when he wasn't listened to, those around Thrawn being pushed back as though walls had been erected around him and Un'hee.

In the resounding, terrifying silence, only the sound of Thrawn's choking was heard. Only the choking, but then, before it happened, Un’hee heard it: a tiny, singular _clink_.

The Navigator threw herself over Thrawn before chaos erupted on the bridge, instincts driving her to keep him still, to prevent whatever instinctual reaction he’d have as best she could despite her size. One single blast rang out _,_ but Un’hee had her face turned to look up at Thrawn’s, felt him jerk beneath her, only half-aware. He sputtered, heaving for breath his body couldn’t process, and she saw red and orange blood clots leak from his mouth, felt the burn of black lesions appearing beneath her hands upon his chest. His eyes were no longer open, but one of his hands sliped down the side of her arm as he tried and failed to touch her shoulder before falling back to his side. Was it his way of trying to console her? Was he accepting his situation’s futility? Surely not. She felt her eyes sting. 

"What is this?" Ezra asked sharply. His hands remained extended in a warning preventing anyone from approaching them. "What's happening to him?"

Un'hee looked up at him, her eyes dark. "It is a poison that creates something called _ch'asebi tochi,_ " She said. "It's metabolized through our skin."

Ezra stood straight, turning to face Captain Ivant. He did not waste his time or attention on the crowd of officers, some of whom were restraining others, the tension teaching a fever pitch. The Captain didn't levy his gun at anyone else, but it stayed out, muzzle smoking in his hand. It had not been set to stun, and the body on the ground proved it. "Do we have an antidote for this? We have to."

Un'hee lifted her hands, seeing the rapidly spreading, ugly blackish-orange mottling from the poison, feeling the tingle of acid created by the poison's reaction to Chiss physiology against her own skin. She'd seen this a long time ago, in fragmented, terrifying memories she’d desperately willed not to exist. It was slow and painful, turning one’s resilience and determination to keep breathing into lengthy, incomprehensible torture. She'd seen it used on Chiss before. She’d seen what it did to them, in the end. Un’hee could pretend all she wanted, but she would never forget it.

Ivant stepped off of the command walkway and dropped down to the crewpit between consoles. He didn’t answer Ezra’s question. "The Grysks call it-" He said something in a skittering, vile sort of tone that barely sounded like language at all. Ezra figured it must have been Meese Caulf, but he couldn’t be sure. At the mention of the Grysks, though, the restless murmurs of the bridge crew went unnaturally silent.

"Blue Death," Un'hee murmured in Cheunh, shuddering as Ivant bent down and plucked something up from the ground. He held it between two fingers, not hazarding a look at the dead commander on the ground beside it. The vial was cracked but not compromised, which was something to be grateful for as it wasn't quite empty.

Ezra dropped to his knees and pushed her hands away, only for Ivant to grab him bodily and hoist him up. “You can’t do compressions,” Ivant said gravely. “You’ll only hurt him more.” 

The Jedi clawed at the arm barred around him. “We can’t just do nothing!” He shouted.

“We have to get him to medbay,” Ivant said. “Med-team’s on their way,” He assured Ezra, and they appeared only seconds later.

Reluctantly, she Un’hee stepped back when they’d asked her to, the medics wasting no time to try and intervene. But Un’hee knew better. Eli hadn’t told Ezra of an antidote because there wasn’t one. This poison was newer. It was rumored, its effects were seen, but it had never been taken whole for analysis from their enemies. Even if that vial had enough poison left in it to be analyzed, it was doubtful that they had the capabilities to develop such an antidote here.

Which left her - and to a lesser extent, through Second Sight, Vah’nya - as the only person who had truly seen this, who had experienced this in the flesh and not just in whatever briefings. This was her responsibility. She had to do _something!_ She owed it to Thrawn, the seemingly frightening man who had been one half responsible for her rescue from the Grysks. She had to be stronger! Surely she could do something about this?! She screwed her eyes shut, willing herself to think. She wasn't here, wasn't involved in Project Compass because she was just any Navigator. Eli and Vah'nya and Admiral Ar'alani believed in her. Believed she was capable of more than Third Sight. So, perhaps she could do this. Perhaps she could become stronger. Maybe she just had to believe in herself. Forget the odds. She was a Chiss Navigator. But more than that, she was a warrior. She wasn’t going to _let_ this happen. With that resolve, she lifted her head.

She _would_ protect Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

-/

Admiral Ar’alani swept into the _Steadfast’s_ medbay as though it were a warzone. A blaster was heavy on her hip, seemingly out of place, and yet completely appropriate. Her piercing eyes flickered to the display. She exhaled and inclined her head to the nearest medic who had stiffened briefly to attention when he’d seen her approach.

“He is dying,” She said to the medic.

The medic grimaced, but agreed all the same. “That kind of damage isn’t something we can fix. We’ve lessened his pain. I’m sorry, Admiral.”

She nodded, not interested in his apology for something that was hardly his fault in the first place. “How long?”

Taking another look at the flagging vital signs on the monitor, the medic frowned. “We’re not sure how he’s lasted this long,” He said. “Soon. Before the shift is over. ”

“Three hours?”

A voice from the hallway leading into the medbay drew both of their attention. “It would have been quicker, but he didn’t get a chance to administer all of it,” Ivant said. His eyes were hard. Ar’alani watched him carefully. His fingers were clenched into fists, likely to prevent anyone from seeing his fingers shaking. He was rattled, and that kept his voice low. “In full doses, Navigator Un’hee says it’s far less painful, extremely fast acting, and very deadly.”

At Ivant’s side stood a very tense Un’hee. Ar’alani followed the girl’s gaze. She did not bother with the monitors or even the medics, her brilliant eyes locking on to Thrawn’s mask covered face. There were machines breathing for him, artificially simulating what the acid-ruined remains of his own could not. If the medical devices bothered her, she did not show it. Ar’alani was impressed. The girl had always had issues with medical evaluations and the pristine whiteness of the medbay thanks to her time in captivity. Normally, she needed one of them to sit with her, to act as a lifeline to combat her understandable, lingering fears.

This time, she stepped forward as if compelled: focused gaze, lips set in a thin line, shoulders square. 

Dark eyes watched her. Ar’alani tilted her head, regarding Ivant and his wordless request. “You wish for me to clear the medbay,” She said. “Do you not?”

“It would be advisable,” Ivant said. “Navigator Un’hee would like a few moments.”

“I had thought you would bring Vah’nya,” Ar’alani pushed back. “We do not have much time.”

“I’m aware,” The Captain answered as she gave the order to clear the otherwise unoccupied medbay. When the doors closed behind the staff, Ivant exhaled and his shoulders fell.

“Navigator Vah’nya would be-”

“No,” Un’hee said firmly, triggering the transparisteel door to Thrawn’s bunk with a quiet whoosh. “I _will_ do it,” She told them both.

Ar’alani gave Eli a stern look. It was clear they hadn’t talked about this. “Are you saying-”

He nodded. “If Navigator Un’hee says she can do it, I believe her.”

“And if she cannot?”

“That is not an option,” The girl said, seeing herself inside.

Ivant walked to the control console on the far side of the exterior room and dimmed the lights, then disconnected every one of the holocams through the administrative controls. The admiral waited for him in the doorway to the smaller, individual bay that Thrawn had been moved to from the far smaller medical facilities aboard the _Compass_. 

“What can I do to help?” Ar’alani finally asked, watching Un’hee pull down the sheet that covered the dying man’s torso. Clearly they were going to do this whether they had her approval or not. Thrawn had been medicated for the unique, overwhelming pain, rendered unconscious and essentially comatose. Only the click-hiss sound of the ventilator that acted as an external set of lungs gave any indication that he was still alive once Ivant reached over him to toggle off the bio readings. And even then, it was still tentative. “Your hands are shaking, Eli’van’to,” Ar’alani said. “Get a hold of yourself.”

Ivant clenched them. “Get the bandages off his torso,” He instructed, willing his voice even.

“As you say,” She inclined her head, peeling back the bandages for Un’hee. It was uglier than she’d been told initially, the weeping wounds a combination of purple-black-orange, slowly eating through flesh and bone until it reached the surface in small but expanding amounts. “So this is what their Blue Death looks like.”

“Yes. It’s absorbed through the skin, and is designed to-”

“I understand the science behind it, Captain,” Ar’alani snapped. She’d never seen it at work, but she’d heard of the secret compound developed by the Grysks and their clients that was exceedingly toxic to Chiss and other species. It literally used the hormones responsible for their colorations and used them against them. In this case, this particular compound worked most efficiently against beings with blue skin. “I have never seen it on someone who was still alive.”

“Well, I think there’s a reason why he’s still alive.”

“You said he was not given the full dosage,” Ar’alani reminded him.

Eli’s eyebrows rose. “Yes,” he agreed, “But we also had company,” He said, then gestured to Un’hee.

“You believe she has slowed the progression already?”

“Yes,” He agreed, motioning for her to sit in one of the chairs in the corner. “I’ll do the rest.” By the rest, Ivant meant that he’d pull the ventilator mask off Thrawn’s face, the device that was allowing him to breathe as well as providing sedation. He needed to be unobstructed. Ar’alani looked away politely, pretending not to notice that the action took a second too long.

Un’hee gasped, head jerking upward when Thrawn’s chest seized without further breath. Hesitantly, she asked, “Will it hurt? I do not wish to hurt Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” She would though, and she knew it. If that was what it would take...

“No,” Ivant assured her, “It doesn’t hurt.” He watched her, eyes warm and concerned, but not forceful. “Do you still believe-”

“Yes, Captain Eli,” She said softly, this time looking into Thrawn’s face. His expression was smooth. The medications he’d been given to sedate him would linger, giving her time to work. “I can do it.” Determined, she clenched her fists. “I will.”

“That’s my girl,” Eli sounded proud, almost relieved, as if Un’hee’s confidence made all the difference. He inclined his head to her after a short glance at Admiral Ar’alani. “May warrior’s fortune be in your favor, Navigator.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Admiral Ar'alani watches. Ezra worries. Vah'nya recalls a memory.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Admiral Ar'alani watches. Ezra worries. Vah'nya recalls a memory.

The first time Admiral Ar’alani came face to face with the man known as Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto of the Galactic Empire, she was unimpressed. This was the man that Mitth’raw’nuruodo had identified as being useful to the Ascendancy? 

The human had looked like a child to her, bright eyed and barely out of his second decade.

It had not been easy for him, either. Acclimation had taken time and effort. He had not been given any special treatment or leeway. His name had been recognized, his rank adjusted with some consideration for the length of his military service, and he had been dropped into his new environment without delay. She had not been _kind_ to him. Nor had she instructed her crew to be. Whatever he was given would be earned on his own merit.

Mitth’raw’nuruodo had seen something in him, and likewise, Ar’alani wished to see it. Naturally. He would either prove his worth, or he would not. If he did, it was in the Ascendancy’s interest. If he did not, she wouldn’t hesitate to deal with him swiftly in any way she felt appropriate.

He had difficulty waiting. A temper - usually well hidden, save for the warmth of his face - lingered beneath the surface. He’d learned to rein it in over the time since she’d gotten to know him, yet she knew old habits die hard and no one, not even a Chiss, was without flaws.

His transition from Eli’van’to to Ivant was something of an anomaly. She’d known what she was giving up, and she’d been willing to sacrifice him for someone she felt was of greater importance to the Ascendancy. The human understood her reasoning, and with the revelation of Vah’nya’s visions about what possibilities awaited them if they did not intervene, they agreed it was far better to lead the Grysks away. Mitth’raw’nuruodo had valuable secrets about the Chiss and the Empire. Eli’van’to’s work had not bore fruit. Whatever the Grysks inevitably got from him would be of little value. And, though it was more important to Ivant than it had been to Ar'alani, he would hopefully be able to save the lives of his former comrades.

She had never promised him rescue. He had never asked for it, either. He’d gone into it knowing that best case looked like finding a way to take his own life. She appreciated his bravery.

And then, Vah’nya happened.

Sweet, concerned, protective Vah’nya who stowed herself away on his transport, who abandoned her post aboard the _Steadfast_ with only a scribbled note. Vah’nya, a true miracle of the Ascendancy, the oldest Navigator in centuries, and the crown jewel of Ar'alani's fleet.

How she had cursed the girl, Ar'alani remembered, fear and fury, having burned bright in her loins for months. She could not deviate from their course. Such a specimen would warrant research and hopefully guarantee her survival amongst the Grysks, and it was the only comfort she had, though she knew the Grysks would tear her apart from the inside out. She did not prepare herself for a happy ending.

And then, when they survived - when they _escaped,_ together and on their own - it was too much to hope for. Too good to be true. She’d dispatched watchers, ensured that Thrawn was, in fact, making his way home and away from the wrecked hull of his once glorious Star Destroyer, and jumped to intercept.

She was not sure what she had been expecting to find, but what she had defied all logic and sense.

It was very much the same now. She watched as Un’hee bowed her head almost to the pristine white sheets beside a dying Thrawn and pressed her hands gently against his wounds, entering a sort of trance.

Before, Vah’nya hadn’t been unaware, vulnerable and in trance like Un’hee was now. She’d been clutching tightly to Ivant, cradling him to her chest as if she was all that was holding him together. Perhaps, Ar’alani thought, considering that moment and all she had come to know since, perhaps she had. Van'nya had refused to be parted from him because she said she was needed, to the point of restraints and sedation.

It had been the only thing the recovered Navigator had been willing to say in those first few days. It had taken Vah’nya weeks to open up to Ar'alani once more, to tell her admiral what had led to abandon her duties and offer herself up to the Grysks, a blatant violation of all she'd stood for before. When she had, Ar’alani believed her to be crazy. Her treasured, precious Navigator manipulated and broken, her mind shattered and fragmented by their vile manipulation and advances.

But Ar’alani hadn’t known what Vah’nya was doing when she’d found them in the husk of that hijacked Grysk ship. She hadn’t known until much later, when Vah’nya had taken her aside, and, to prove her very much in-tact sanity, had shown her. She was to light the way for her sisters, she’d told Ar’alani. She would be the first. And she had, in confidence, revealed why: Eli'van'to, an inferior, but tolerated human, a man who had meant to be a sacrificial lamb when he'd failed at being a tool, had reminded her of what it truly meant to be a Chiss warrior.

There was a shudder, a start from the bedridden Chiss. Un’hee’s eyelashes fluttered, then went still again as she continued focusing. Ivant stood at Ar’alani’s shoulder.

“He’s breathing on his own,” Ivant said softly. His words were more relieved than clinical. “See it?”

Ar’alani shook her head in disbelief. It was true. Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s chest rose and fell evenly, synced to Un’hee’s own breathing. “And now,” She whispered, a touch of awe coloring her tone, “There are two.” More seriously, she added, “Just how much will our people owe you, I wonder.”

The human shook his head. “They don’t owe me anything.” He motioned to Un’hee. “This is all her.” He looked down at Ar’alani, his brown eyes hard and haunted. “There is no formula to make this happen, Admiral.”

“And yet you are the common denominator.”

“I’m hardly anything important, Admiral.” He said. “I might appear to be the catalyst, but all I’m doing is simply giving them the tools.”

Ar’alani hummed, looking back at Thrawn. His pain seemed eased far more naturally now. “Perhaps.”

“There are limits to what their abilities can do,” He said. “She may heal his wounds, but she cannot counteract the rest of the poison’s metabolic effects. He will need to be monitored.”

“We are sailing for Csilla,” She said. “Senior Captain Khresh is taking over command of the _Compass._ ” Her eyes flared brightly. “I will _not_ allow the Grysks to destroy us from within,” She said. “Once Mitth'raw'nuruodo is recovered, we must figure out everything he knows. I have no doubt he can confirm his assailant, but we must find out what other patterns he can see.”

“We can’t afford to keep him in the dark, Admiral.”

“The project must stay a secret,” She insisted harshly. “I realize it is not ideal, but it must be done.”

“Even now?”

“We can tell him about everything else-” She tried to compromise, but Ivant interrupted.

“Ma’am, with all due respect-”

“You must _listen_ to me, Eli’van’to.” She stole a glance at Un'hee, and relaxed slightly when the girl had not heard her sharper tone. “We are compromised. Our enemies have infiltrated our ranks. He will be in even more danger now than he was before once we make this known.”

“And we’re making this known?”

“Yes.” Ar’alani’s face was stiff, her shoulders tense. “We must make it known. You killed a man, Ivant. On the bridge, no less. Some will call for your demotion. Others, your life.”

Ivant tipped his head back and looked up at the ceiling. He had made the call without fully thinking it through. He’d done what he had to, to protect his crew. “There was more poison,” He said. “Commander Wes’lash’andi was a threat-”

“I am not doubting you, nor am I opposing your methods,” Ar’alani said tersely. “A kill shot was the only thing that would have stopped him from harming anyone else, including a Navigator. If the Grysks have truly infiltrated our ranks as we believe ,” She reasoned, “No one is truly safe anymore.”

-/

Ezra drummed on the arm of his chair, trying to make sense of it all. Or at least, that's what he knew he should have been doing: it was what Admiral Ar'alani had told him to do when she left him here, in her office. He didn't know what to think, other than that he wanted to talk to Un'hee, who seemed to know what was going on, but she had asked to accompany Ivant and the Admiral for questioning.

And no one would let them see Thrawn. Thrawn, who, Un'hee had led him to believe was dying. The poison was called _"Blue Death"_ for Force's sake. Nobody had said anything about antidotes or how to fix it, they only spoke of keeping him comfortable. Ezra knew Thrawn would hate that. If Thrawn were dying, he'd want to go out fighting. It seemed to do him a disservice to let him slip away easily.

He fixed a glance at the Admiral's memory wall. Apparently this was a very Chiss statement, and could be found on most command ships. The commander would have a wall representative of their personal triumphs and goals, and it would be used like a focus, to remind the Commander of what drove them in moments when they felt they'd lost their way.

Ezra found it to be too personal. It wasn't just pictures or medals, wasn't just military accolades. He felt like he was able to see her entire life here, on this wall, and he felt like he was intruding. Though, it did make him curious. Ivant didn't have a memory wall, and he'd been in Thrawn's office aboard the Chimaera. He collected artwork, but nothing like this. All of Thrawn's pieces meant something to him, but they were not as blatantly understandable as this overt telling of Ar'alani's life that stretched out before him. If an enemy saw this…

"If an enemy saw this, the Admiral would already be dead," Vah'nya said from behind him. Ezra jumped. He hadn't noticed her coming in, nor had he realized that he'd spoken the last bit aloud. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Ezra insisted, standing. "How's Thrawn? Have you heard anything?"

"They are working on him now," She said. "The Admiral and Ivant are watching over him."

"Yeah, because that clearly helped him earlier, right?" Ezra winced as the words left his mouth, but straightened up anyway. He had meant them. They might not be entirely fair, but he meant them.

Vah’nya swallowed hard, “I understand,” She said slowly. “I do not want Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo to die.” Her lips pulled to the right when she pursed them. She eyed the memory wall, then let her gaze trail over Ezra. “Did he ever tell you about the time he let me order the _Chimaera_ to fire upon the Grysks?”

“The _Chimaera_?” Ezra’s brows pulled together as the confusion fell over him. “Really?” His words were darkened by disbelief. It was enough to distract him momentarily. “And the Empire just _let_ you-”

“He inspires loyalty in those who serve with him. He has yours, after all,” Vah’nya reminded Ezra, speaking over him until she regained his attention. “And you were bitter enemies. You nearly killed him.”

Ezra’s shoulders slumped. “No,” He finally said. “He didn’t tell me.”

“I wished for a memory for Un’hee,” She said, her voice and gaze making her look far away. “I was afraid, but more than that, I wanted to be able to give something to Un’hee, who’d spent so long in servitude to the Grysks. I wanted her to know that we could defeat them. _I_ wanted to know that we could defeat them.” She blinked back to herself, turning her head to Ezra. “He gave me more than that. He gave me - and through me, Un’hee as well - the opportunity to participate. The Admiral was displeased. Thrawn seemed to constantly step on her toes, but it was his ship, and he is…” She smiled sadly. “He is a complicated man. But I believe he is good.”

When Vah’nya nudged Ezra’s shoulders, he hummed something in the affirmative. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“Well,” She began, “Un’hee identified the poison immediately. If she hadn’t been through what she had, we wouldn’t know what it was.”

“But we don’t have an antidote. And the damage, they said-”

Vah’nya linked their fingers. “I choose to believe, Ezra,” She said, as cool and calm, as serene in the Force as he’d ever felt her. She squeezed their combined hands. “Will you?”

-/

Ar’alani had retrieved them both hours later, finding them both in the middle of her office. Kneeling on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, they had been deep in meditation when she’d arrived. By then, Ezra had gotten his tumultuous emotions under control, though Vah’nya didn’t stray from his side, citing that he needed a friend in this.

“He will live,” Ar’alani said.

Exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Ezra nodded, trying to hold himself in some semblance of professionalism. “Thank you, Admiral.”

“Do not thank me,” She snapped, then relented immediately, her voice going smooth in an attempt to be soothing. It was weird coming from such a high-ranking Chiss officer. “We were able to synthesize an antidote. He will be sick until the chemicals are purged from his system, but his life is no longer in danger.” She inclined her head. “It was also to our benefit that his assailant was not able to administer a full dose.” 

“And the damage to his lungs?” Ezra questioned. “Un’hee had said-”

“There was damage, but the medics are confident they will be able to reverse it.” She cast a look at Vah’nya, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly before gesturing to the door. “I believe you wished to see him, did you not?”

“Oh! Yes, Admiral,” Ezra snapped to attention immediately.

The Admiral’s voice grew cautious, “Be on your guard, Jedi. This danger may have passed, but I do not doubt there will be others. Until he is fully recovered, you will need to act as his eyes and ears.” She fixed him with her intense gaze. “Even if he does not believe so himself. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ezra said. His lips were drawn in a firm, determined line. “I understand.”

“Good.” She sounded satisfied enough. “You will not be alone. There are others,” She looked to Vah’nya, “Who will be assisting you.”

“You’ve contacted _her_?” The Navigator questioned.

“Yes,” Admiral Ar’alani confirmed. “She will be joining us en route to our destination.” Ar’alani took a brief pause, dropping into her reflection chair heavily, with the airs of someone who was, surprisingly enough, exhausted. Ezra tried not to act too surprised, though he’d never seen her show something so close to weakness. “We need allies we can trust.” She met Ezra’s eyes one final time. “I ask that you not allow your personal feelings to cloud your judgement.”

Ezra sighed. “Let me guess: She’s Imperial, isn’t she?”

“She was,” Vah’nya corrected. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “But remember what I said about loyalty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Ezra demands answers from Eli.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Ezra demands answers from Eli.

The medbay was quiet when Ezra finally made his way in. There was a lingering fear of what he’d find, but he pushed it back. Nothing could have been worse than what he’d seen. Even aboard the bridge of the _Chimaera_ , when the purgill’s tails held him in place, he’d never seemed truly helpless. And that, Ezra had decided, rivaled the Grysks he’d encountered in terms of terror. Beings like Thrawn just _weren’t_ supposed to be like that. 

Ezra quietly opened the door that separated the bay Thrawn had been assigned from the rest of the medical quarter. He wasn’t surprised to see Thrawn asleep, but he was surprised to see Un’hee. She moved fast.

The small Navigator had already pulled a chair up as close to the edge of the bed as she could so she could wrap her hands around the arm that was not being used to administer medications. She lifted her head when she heard him, her forehead bowed to touch the top of his hand.

“Hi,” He said softly to the girl.

“Hi,” She echoed back as Ezra inspected Thrawn. The slightest peek of bandages were visible, but they, like the sheets pulled over him, were a stark, unblemished white. “Did they tell you?”

“Yeah,” Ezra said in relief, grabbing a chair and moving it closer with an easy wave of his hand. He dropped into it on Thrawn’s other side. In Basic, he added, “Thank the Force.”

Un’hee dipped her head, almost seeming pensive, just for a moment. “Yeah,” She echoed. “I was really worried.”

Ezra didn’t reach out to touch Thrawn, not wanting to overstep his boundaries. They weren’t touchy people. He leaned back into the chair and crossed his arms, drawing the Force up and around them. Un’hee, he realized, felt weird. Electric. He’d never felt her like this before. Maybe it was a lingering panic? “Are you okay?” He asked her, tilting his head. “I know that was really scary,” He added.

She nodded slowly. “I am fine,” She said. “I was scared,” She admitted. “I still am. I don’t want anything like this to happen again. Not to anyone.”

“Me either,” Ezra agreed. “I’m going to keep an eye on him. This never should have happened,” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have turned my back on him. I never sensed his ill-intent toward Thrawn, not even at the end when he grabbed me.”

“Chiss are difficult to sense, even to each other,” Un’hee whispered warily. “I felt like something was wrong, but I didn’t know what it was until it happened.”

“You saved him, though,” Ezra said. “If you hadn’t known how serious it was - what it was,” He revised, “They never would have made an antidote in time.”

The Chiss girl frowned, looking into Thrawn’s sleeping face. Unlike Ezra, whose face went slack and serene when he was unconscious, Thrawn retained that same sternness, his lips held in a serious line despite the rest of his face being smooth and impassive. “I’m just glad they did,” She said softly, evenly. She pressed her forehead back against Thrawn’s arm where it lay above the thin white sheet and blanket and remained silent for a long, long time.

That was fine. Ezra used the time to immerse himself in much-needed meditation. The Chiss’s deep-sleeping breaths were a balm for his anxiety, and an anchor to prevent him from slipping down into the Force too deeply. He refused to let his guard down. If Ar’alani was concerned, this wasn’t a drill. Thrawn - hell, both of them were probably still in danger. Ivant might have thought that an attack would be directed at him, but Ezra couldn’t help but feel like an attack on Thrawn was more of a show of their displeasure at the Chiss bringing _him_ back after things with the Empire went wrong.

He exhaled in frustration, all but hearing his master’s knowing hum. Right, Ezra thought. Get back on track. Give it to the Force. There’s nothing he could do about that now. He was here in this moment, and so was Thrawn. It was up to Ezra to make sure nobody got another opportunity to do something like this, antidote or not.

-/

“You need to sleep,” Vah’nya instructed him after a lengthy silence. She tucked her legs beneath her as she sat, having just exchanged his most recent mug of caf for a cup of calming wintermint tea, “Or, you need to get over yourself and go sit with him.”

Commenting on something else entirely, he began, “Where’d you-”

“The Admiral gave me a few sachets,” She admitted, then pressed, “She’s not stupid, you know. For now, all we can do is wait for the remainder of the chemicals to run their course.”

“I know,” Eli looked up at the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Admiral said that, too. I just,” He sighed. “It’s easier said than done.”

The Senior Navigator exhaled slowly. “Do you wish to speak about it?”

“Not really,” Eli admitted.

Vah’nya hummed, rubbing at a scratch in the well-worn mugs she’d managed to get from the Admiral’s office. She didn’t look up at him right away when she spoke. “Your officers said you didn’t panic. That is a big feat,” She finished, gracing him with a smile. It was a bigger distraction than the more obvious topic, the actual big-ticket item: Un’hee and her newly manifested abilities.

He bit hard, and she saw through the mild irritation in his tone, “I couldn’t have panicked, Vah’nya. We’d have had _bodies_ , plural, on our hands.”

She hummed. “Exactly. You are a good commander, Eli. Your actions-”

“A _good_ commander would have seen what was going on before it happened,” The human spat. There was the temper. Vah’nya hid her smile with a pointed sip of tea. “Thrawn _never_ would’ve let something like that happen to one of his officers.”

“Thrawn never would have known what that was,” Vah’nya reminded him. “Maybe he’d seen it in some report, but I doubt he would have known the amount that could kill someone instantly, like you and Un’hee did. It isn’t documented.” Her eyes were wide, their glow bright in the dim light of the empty ready room that would serve as his interim office. She leveled him with a serious gaze. “You didn’t hesitate.”

“No, but now I get the stigma of killing my second officer on the bridge of my own damn ship. As if being this,” He gestured to himself like he was some sort of freak, “Wasn’t enough.” Some of the more prejudiced Chiss definitely saw him that way, and he’d never quite gotten used to their open disdain. 

“Well, if you were going to get heat for it,”Un’hee reminded him patiently, “Admiral Ar’alani would have already punished you herself. This is not your Empire. We are flawed, Eli, but I would hope we are better than the worst of what you’ve left behind.”

At that, the Captain leaned forward, finally picking up the mug of tea. “It is,” He began. “You are. I just-” He sighed again. “I don’t mean to be like this,” He said. “Not to you.”

“I know,” Vah’nya said. “Which is why you should go see him. You’ll never calm down until you do,” She reminded him kindly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I saw him already, Vah’nya. I watched Un’hee work. I know he’ll be alright.” 

“So?” She smiled again, both soft and understanding. “I know for a fact there is a difference between sitting with someone you care about with and without the Admiral watching. Not that I believe she would judge you, but, some things are private.” 

Eli nodded, looking down into his cooling tea, as if the murky green-blue-brown color of it would hold some answers for him. If anyone understood that, it was Vah’nya. Vah’nya who had sat with him for so many of those long nights during his recovery, mindful of the boundaries between friendship enhanced by suffering and polite concern when others were watching. Theirs was a bond forged by mutual pain, by memories remembered if only to prevent the same fate from befalling someone else, and a determination to live when everything else had failed. 

“Wanna go for a walk?” He asked her when she’d finished her tea. He was trying to be light about it, so she played along like a true friend.

She inclined her head. “Of course, Eli.” When he rose, she followed, stopping only to place her hands on his shoulders in a show of support. “You are not alone,” She reminded him. 

Eli covered her hands with his. “I know,” He said, squeezing. “Thank you, Vah’nya.”

-/

Jerked from meditation by the sound of approaching footsteps, Ezra found himself meeting the gaze of a hesitant looking Captain Ivant. He rose, stiffening to attention. On the other side of Thrawn’s bed, Un’hee was asleep, curled in her chair, still halfway attempting to hold the unconscious Chiss’s hand. Somehow, Ezra knew if Thrawn were awake, he’d very much dislike the clinginess of it, but would probably bear the discomfort for the girl’s sake. 

“Any changes?” Ivant asked.

“No,” Ezra said, sitting back down but not quite relaxing. “Any questioning you’ll need to do about what happened will have to wait.”

Eli frowned. “I’m not here to question him,” He assured. “I was just worried.”

“You weren’t worried when it happened,” Ezra accused quietly. “Convenient.”

The older human’s eyebrows rose. “What? What do you mean I wasn’t worried. Of course I was. He’s a part of my crew. He’s my responsibility.”

“Yeah, he is,” The Jedi agreed, careful to keep his voice low enough to prevent him from waking Un’hee. He seemed to consider something for a minute before finally motioning to the door. “I need to talk to you. Outside.”

Vah'nya appeared behind Ivant, her head tilted in a wordless question. Ivant shook his head once, decidedly. “Okay,” He said. “Let’s step outside.” To Vah’nya, he added, “Stay in here until we come back, okay?”

She confirmed she would, and Ivant led Ezra out of the medbay and into the nearest vacant service corridor. When it was clear they were alone, Ivant turned back to him expectantly. “What is it?” He asked, concerned.

“I guess I should apologize now, since you’re my superior officer-”

“Just say what’s on your mind,” Ivant waved away the Jedi’s attempt at formality. 

Ezra evaluated him for a few seconds. “Well, why were you coming to see him? You knew he wasn’t going to be awake, so why now?”

A hint of discomfort echoed through Ivant’s tone, disguised as formality. “Is it alright if I worry about my subordinate, Jedi Bridger?”

“Yeah,” He began, “I mean, yes, sir.” He shrugged, then commented mildly, “I guess it’s like this is just… routine to you. Like it’s nothing that Thrawn almost died.”

Eli’s frown deepened. “It’s definitely not nothing, Ezra,” He relented. “But the situation with Thrawn is complicated, and not really your - or anyone else’s business.”

“Right.” Ezra said. “Well, all I’m saying is that you don’t get to pick when it’s convenient to care about someone. You either do, or you don’t.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Ivant refuted, meeting the steely gaze of his lone human counterpart, assessing how he appeared to be feeling. 

“Right,” The Jedi muttered again. “Sure.”

“You’re pissed at me,” He said. “I get it. This happened on my ship, on my bridge. It’s my responsibility.” He considered adding that he was furious at himself as well, but it wasn’t the time. This wasn’t about him.

Ezra put both hands on his hips. His captain was absolutely right. “Of course I’m pissed, and yeah, this is on you!” That wasn’t completely fair, but with a target to direct his anger, Ezra couldn’t help himself. “How did this get under your nose without you knowing about it? He was your second officer!”

Ivant agreed, that was a fact. “He was. Commander Wes’lash’andi was a smart officer, and he would have gone far if not for what he’d done.” The Captain said, focusing only on the facts. Ezra was compassionate and strong. And more than anything, he was well and truly loyal to Thrawn, his entry point into this end of the Galaxy. He cared about helping the Ascendancy, but Eli knew it was deeper than that. Thrawn had been willing to abandon his principles to try and salvage a downright evil situation, for sake of what he believed to be the greater good of the galaxy. He’d lost his way, that was never a question. Still, he wasn’t irredeemable. Ezra’s being here proved that. 

“And he almost _killed_ Thrawn.”

“I was there, Bridger,” He replied immediately, an edge to his tone. “As for your question of how this happened, what do you think?”

“Well we can’t ask Commander Slasha,” Ezra’s eyes flashed.

“No, we can’t.” Then, in Basic, a language hardly any of the crew could understand, much less speak, Ivant continued. “He had _Grysk_ poison, Ezra. We found more in his bunk. Not enough to kill everyone on board, but certainly enough to take out another fifty members of our crew. Do you have any idea how that much of something gets aboard a ship like the _Compass_?” He paused after asking, brows steep, eyes cold. 

“I-”

Vanto spoke over whatever half-cocked answer Ezra was trying to formulate. “The answer is not alone. It would have had to have come through another ship. Another crew. Someone brought it to him.”

“What about when we were docked?”

“Doubtful. Copero is a military shipyard. Their protocols are too strict.”

Ezra considered. “Then via shuttle? We would have seen a Grysk ship.”

“It wouldn’t be a Grysk ship,” Eli said, resisting the urge to shake the young man by the shoulders, roughly. “ _Think_.”

It didn’t take the Jedi long to put it together. “They - their client species,” He said softly. “One of them?”

“Correct.” Ivant crossed his arms. “Which one?”

“I don’t… anyone could meet him in the hangar with a non-descript ship.”

“We have surveillance in the hangar. Not anyone.”

“Well, the Chiss don’t just work with _anyone,_ ” Ezra sassed back, then recoiled, remembering he was speaking to his superior officer.

Eli didn’t comment on the tone, instead asking, “You understand now, Bridger?”

“Why would someone do this to their own people?” Ezra looked confused. Conflicted. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“There’s never just one.” Eli leaned against the wall. “Emperor Palpatine is willing to work with the Grysks to get Thrawn back. Both sides think they can work over the other to come out ahead.”

“And… you’re saying that whoever in the Ascendancy who is willing to work with the Grysks is thinking the same thing?”

The boy was smarter than he acted sometimes, Eli would give him that. He wondered absently if this was a bit how Thrawn thought of him in their academy days, when Eli himself had to be led point by point to a conclusion. He’d like to think he was a little more analytical, but he highly doubted it. 

“Yes.”

“Do you think they can?””

To that, Eli frowned, his expression shifting from wary to stormy and dark. “No,” He said. “I don’t think so.”

“But you did. You and Vah’nya came out ahead.”

Unfortunately, Ezra didn’t miss Eli’s shudder. “Our escape from the Grysks, our ability to kill them at all was a miracle. Our survival even more so. If the Grysks are working with a faction or family within the Ascendancy, they will believe they have control, that they’re capable of the deception.”

“But you did,” He argued.

Eli stopped him there. “I didn’t. I supplied the data to find Thrawn. I gave them the formulas, the tools. I never gave myself enough access to key data, never let myself memorize it. So even if they ripped my mind to shreds,” He paused, something haunted in his eyes making Ezra swallow hard, “They probably wouldn’t have been able to find the _Chimaera_ before Ar’alani got to it _._ It was just an added bonus that the Grysks were arrogant enough to think I was a mere hireling for the first bit. They won’t make that kind of mistake with actual Chiss. And certainly not with Chiss of any significant power.”

The Jedi toed a scuff on the floor with his boot, obviously trying to process that information, likely to inform Thrawn as soon as the other man was awake. “Ar’alani - er, Admiral Ar’alani asked me to keep an eye on Thrawn.”

“Good,” Eli said. “I figured you would have.” He motioned to the exit to the service hallway. “Can we go back and check on the Commander now?”

“I suppose.” 

The look Eli received before the Jedi turned away from him was full of suspicion and defensiveness. Ezra might trust his judgement when it came to the Ascendancy and their enemies, but he clearly didn’t trust Eli personally. Eli sighed silently, rubbing at his temples as he followed along behind Ezra. It didn’t look like he would be able to visit Thrawn peacefully after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Maybe Thrawn was right.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Maybe Thrawn was right.

The first time Thrawn woke, it was with a lethargic, groggy unawareness. A medic on duty at the time had explained this would happen, that until all the chemicals in his system had been neutralized and run their course, they were in for an interesting couple of days. The medic had said this between asking their patient if they knew who and where they were. 

Thrawn had barely had time to sneer back at them before his eyes rolled back into his head. Apparently the medic was relieved. 

"The Admiral warned us that he's not a good patient," They admitted, mildly uncomfortable. "Keep that in mind if he wakes up loopy, hmm?"

Ezra had shrugged at the time. Thrawn seemed tired, not so much out of his mind, but it hadn't been very long either. He could handle the Chiss seeing flying tookas or weird colors when it happened. Ezra held back a laugh. He couldn't help but wonder if his idea of Thrawn hallucinating would be as funny as the real thing. Maybe he should keep his holorecorder close, just in case.

Or, on second thought, when Thrawn managed to throw it - and him - across the medbay when he'd woke up next, maybe he shouldn't have. There was a wild look in his eyes, their red glow reduced to vivid crimson halos for how much his pupils were dilated. Fury rang through his posture, and it took Ezra a second to shake off the panic, trying to untangle himself from the chairs that had been tipped over with him. From the corner of his eye, he saw medical staff watching warily. Above him, standing, somehow, Thrawn had managed to rip out whatever intravenous lines had been attached to his left arm, and was holding the pole those lines had been attached to over his head like a weapon.

Thrawn only said one word, his voice menacing and laced with unrestrained hatred. _"Rebel."_

Belatedly, Ezra was just grateful that Un'hee had been dragged off by Vah'nya to get some much needed food and sleep. This was the last thing the very impressionable young Navigator needed to see. He considered calling on the Force, but didn't want to restrain Thrawn, unsure of his lingering injuries. He looked fine, but he was still shirtless and bandaged from under his arms all the way to the top of his hips.

That option cast aside, Ezra had to hope he was quicker than Thrawn was in this state. He certainly looked to be feeling the effects of whatever cocktail of chemicals were boarding through him. Carefully, he got his feet underneath him and bolted. Thrawn charged him, and no, the distance the Chiss had to cover was unobstructed. He'd just managed to put his back to the doorway and brought his hands up against the blow, reminding himself that Thrawn was out of his mind, and definitely didn't mean it-

"I've got him," Said a sharp, whip-crack of a voice. In Basic, Ezra realized. Her accent was definitely not Chiss, so Ezra decided she must be the woman Ar’alani had told him about. There was the sound of a blaster being drawn, then he felt it being shoved against his back. The woman leaned in as she bent his arm behind his back painfully. Whispering, she added, "Play along."

“Commander,” Thrawn acknowledged, the words coming slower than usual. Behind Ezra, there was the slightest huff, like an aborted snort of hidden amusement. “Be careful. They are never alone.” He considered a moment, setting down his makeshift weapon without concern for why, exactly it was as it was. “Take him to detention cell aurek-nine.”

“Yes,” The woman said, then paused for a second too long, thinking. This time she was a little more steady when she spoke. “Understood, Admiral Thrawn.” Ezra felt her come to attention as best she was able while pretending to restrain him. Her grip had loosened significantly on his arm. She hadn’t removed her blaster, but he didn’t dare draw attention to it. “I’ll return to brief you on what I’ve found about his associates straight away.”

“Thank you. I will contact ISB to send us an interrogator. Perhaps,” Considering whatever he was about to say, Thrawn’s brow furrowed and he frowned, stroking his jaw in confusion.

“What is it, sir?” 

Ezra made a half-hearted attempt to struggle, “Nothing, Commodore.” Thrawn answered, resting back on the edge of his bed, trying to figure out what it was that didn’t add up. Ezra noticed the second title, but the woman restraining him didn’t flinch over it.

“I am going to walk you to the door,” Thrawn’s ‘Commander’ murmured, swinging him around roughly. “We are going out into the hallway.” Several members of the medical staff lingered outside the door to Thrawn’s room. None of them were moving to intercept him from potentially doing more harm. Ezra couldn’t blame them, really. “Then you are going to stay there until I tell you it’s okay.”

“You can’t do this,” Ezra balked in Basic. The medical staff stepped back, giving them a wide berth.

“Quit fighting me!” She snapped, shoving him, though hardly painfully. From behind, it looked like a good act to the Chiss watching their actions intensely.

A moment later they were outside the medbay doors. Once they were out of sight, she spun him around to face her and holstered her blaster. “Sorry about that,” She said, though her tone was more blunt than apologetically. “You alright?”

“Yeah. He’s clearly out of his mind,” Ezra said, brushing himself off. “No harm done.” He looked up, surprisingly, into the stoic face of a woman at least five years older than Captain Ivant, by the look of her. Dark eyes, dark hair, and a CDF uniform much like his own. 

“I’d say,” The woman said. Her eyes were as sharp as her tone. “I’m surprised you weren’t levitating him back to bed and pinning him there, Jedi.”

“I didn’t want to stress him out,” Ezra admitted sheepishly. “He’s had a rough couple of days.” 

“Seems fair,” She supposed, then considered him. “I’ll keep an eye out for him until he stops thinking you’re his mortal enemy. You’re lucky he didn’t think he was on the command bridge, and his people were in danger.”

“Yeah,” He agreed. “You’re the one Admiral Ar’alani sent for, aren’t you?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Yes,” She said. “I’ve seen your face many times during my years of service to the Empire, but I don’t believe we ever met face-to-face.” Her gaze was steely, serious and no-nonsense, but hardly malicious. “Karyn Faro,” She said. “I was Thrawn’s second aboard the Chimaera.”

“You were? But I never saw you among the-”

“No. I missed the Seventh’s,” She paused briefly, trying to find the right word without cursing the barely grown man in front of her, “ _Adventures_ by a very narrow margin.” A loud slam echoed from within the medbay, followed by rapid-fire communication in rapidly escalating voices. “If you’ll excuse me, I think that’s my cue. This shouldn’t take long.”

True to her word, it didn’t. One of the medical staff retrieved him within minutes, meanwhile Faro had taken to the chair Un’hee had used hours before on Thrawn’s right, near his head. She sat seemingly at ease, but everything about her felt alert and aware. On guard.

The Chiss medic said something to her in a language Ezra didn’t understand.

In response, the human woman slid her gaze toward Ezra then back to the medic before responding in solid, but moderately accentuated Cheunh. “I understand Cheunh, medic,” She looked away from Ezra. “But you’re welcome for the help. Thanks for helping me get him back in on the cot. He was heavier than I anticipated.”

“You knocked him out?” Ezra asked, surprised. “Really?”

Frowning, she considered her words carefully before speaking. Ezra got the feeling this was Faro’s way of extending an olive branch. Almost amused, she said, “Well, it’s certainly not the first time I’ve thought about giving him a sedative. He doesn’t know when to stop.”

Ezra laughed, and the medic smirked to themself as they set the rest of the medications and intravenous lines on the patient back to rights. “Thanks,” He said. “Uh- Commodore?”

“Just Faro is fine,” She said, switching back to Basic. “My rank is a little, well, let’s call it up in the air for a moment. I’ve been helping the Admiral out since things went to hell on Lothal.”

“Huh. You didn’t defect to the Rebellion,” He said.

“I did not, but if it helps, you could consider me a rebel of a different sort.”

-/

Csilla was a beautiful planet. Ethereal, stunning to take in from above. It was the pale, deep blue that one could only associate with a deep freeze, an eternal winter. He looked out the viewport on the bridge, beside the navigator’s console. It was vacant, like the rest of the bridge. More than ten kilometers away was the _Compass_ , the ship that had been his responsibility for two years now sitting like an ominous reminder of his shortcomings. Vah’nya had doubted they would go back to it now. Not with things like this.

She had come a long way in understanding strategy. And with a blunder like this - at least, a perceived one, at least, politically - it only made sense to tighten the reins, to pull all the pawns back to protect the queen. Not that it was either of their decisions. The fate of everything rested with Admiral Ar’alani’s pull amongst the Aristocra and the Admiralty.

Ivant knew when he’d made the decision to strive for command - first, under Thrawn, and then, here, with Admiral Ar’alani aboard the _Steadfast_ \- that it would not all be glamorous or honorable. He’d seen what his superiors had had to do, had seen the light they’d cast upon themselves, both favorable and unfavorable. He’d seen successes painted as failures, and failures washed away with promotions and medals. He’d spent most of their time traveling back to Csilla wondering which one this was. It felt like equal parts success and failure, skewed depending upon the angle by which the events were viewed.

As if capable of reading his thoughts, Admiral Ar’alani spoke from behind him along the same thread. “If I recommend you, will you deny me before the council of families?” Ar’alani said. “Tell me now, before I make a fool of myself in the capital.”

“Do you think they’ll let you? You’ve said yourself that they would call for demotion and possibly a firing squad.”

She hummed, a dissonant, displeased sound that was muffled behind her lips. “I believe pride will win out in this case. You have saved them from a great, potentially public blunder. They will be displeased at the loss of Chiss life at the hands of a human, but they will begrudgingly agree with your judgement. To argue otherwise would make them look like imbeciles, especially if someone were to leak such information to the people.” Her gaze at that was not insignificant.

“Right,” Ivant turned away from the viewport and back to Ar’alani. It always boiled down to politics and red tape. “No offense, ma’am, but you’re sure that a family influenced by the Grysks isn’t on the council? I can’t help but think we’re painting a target on our backs.”

“There is only one way to find out,” She said, tilting her head. “I have a plan with multiple contingencies, Eli’van’to. Do you trust me?”

Where in the past there had been hesitation, here she heard none. Her captain was sincere. “With my life, Admiral.”

A smile might have crossed her face, but it was lightning quick, there and gone before he ever realized he’d seen it. “Then let us go to the capital and face your reckoning.” When his stance shifted to attention, a smirk twisted her mouth, indicative of the cunning woman the Admiral was and the grim pleasure she took in these political games. "Our shuttle awaits."

-/

Despite Ezra’s hope for lighthearted blackmail (something he felt he was entitled to considering Thrawn’s near-assault on him), Thrawn had not had any embarrassing drugged-up, hallucination-ridden moments, only brief periods of waking confusion and almost slurred speech. Faro had lingered for a long while beside Thrawn, until Un'hee had returned and she had wordlessly given up her seat for a lonely chair near the door. 

They'd resigned themselves to shifts, one human present at his bedside at all hours. There was hardly a chance that someone would dare harm Thrawn aboard Ar'alani's ship (he hoped), but Faro was diligent. Ezra reluctantly heeded her words, preferring to play it safe. In their couple hours of overlap, conversation between them was stilted, indicative of their status as newly former enemies. 

All of it was easier if Un'hee was present, which she was, more often than not. Like Ezra and Vah'nya, who had also been pulled from the _Compass,_ she had also been removed from active duty for the time being, and, following questioning, left to her own devices. The emotional intensity of her concern was palpable through the Force. It was a bright, tender, and vivid concern, like threads between them pulled taut. Un'hee cared for Thrawn, very much. Ezra didn't blame her.

He could admit that he cared about Thrawn, too. Not in the way he cared for his family - this bond was friendship, and it was very different, though not lesser because of it - but he was concerned all the same. Concerned enough to sit with Thrawn overnight, until Faro showed up with some burned caf from the refectory and a tight, defensive smile to relieve him in the morning.

Ezra's concern did make it hard to sleep when he wasn't on unofficial guard duty, however. It was inevitable that his eyelids grew heavy. He realized eventually that it was impossible not to sleep, so instead he willed himself to keep one eye metaphorically open, drawing the Force around himself and Thrawn, and by extension, Un'hee, forcing himself to remain awash in those connections as he dozed lightly. The medbay was completely silent. Surely the sound of anyone or anything would wake him.

Which it did at some point. He heard the sound of footsteps, the unfurling of a blanket. Opening his eyes only the tiniest bit, Ezra made out brown hair and a black officer's uniform. 

"Eli?" Un'hee asked for him, groaning with the effort of waking.

"It's late," He said to her. It was unmistakably Ivant. He seemed to tuck the blanket he'd brought around the girl, whispering, "Go back to sleep."

The Navigator didn't argue, asleep again almost instantly. He heard the almost silent rearranging of chairs as the captain pulled the one Faro usually occupied up beside Un'hee's. All the while, Ezra couldn't help but feel wide awake. What was Ivant doing here?

Reaching out with the Force on this was easy. Compared to a Chiss, reading a human's surface level emotions wasn't remotely difficult. Vanto was throwing guilt and worry, his presence stormy, clouded. It was almost that same lonely melancholy that Ezra had been associating with Thrawn for some time now. It felt thicker, more potent now, almost like a dam had broken on his emotions. 

In the narrow bed, Thrawn shifted. His breathing changed, the slightest hitch to it, instead of measured and even.

"This doesn’t look like the Thunder Wasp's med-center," Thrawn slurred in Basic. He'd only muttered in Cheunh once or twice since this whole thing started.

"It's not," Ivant said in the same language, explaining,"You've been hallucinating. You have a whole lotta drugs in your system."

"Nightswan?"

At that, the human laughed. It was almost affectionate. "No, Thrawn. He's been dead for years.

There was silence for a while, then, "I'm not in the Empire, am I?" He paused. "I seem to remember-" He said a word in a language Ezra didn't understand. Ezra could practically hear the gears grinding in his head. 

"The, uh, purgill were real, but unimportant right now. You left the Empire. You're home."

"Then why are you-" There was the unmistakable sound of movement, and the answering shuffle as Captain Ivant reacted accordingly. Unfortunately the answer to keeping Thrawn from potentially harming when he woke disoriented and confrontational was more medication. Which meant that if he tried to get up, he would likely fall promptly on his face.

And that seemed to be the direction in which things were trying to happen. "Whoa, whoa, don't get up."

A short scuffle, then a soft thud later, Thrawn said, "You are stronger than I remember," Voice unmistakably awed.

Ivant didn’t bask in it. "That was leverage, not strength. Besides, you're higher than a spicehead right now, so don't take that opinion to heart."

"What caused this?"

Ezra suspected they were sitting with their backs to him now and risked another peek. Sure enough, Thrawn and Ivant sat side by side on the bed, shoulders touching.

"Poison. You had a reaction to it."

"There was an antidote?"

Ivant drawled, "’still has to run its course."

Thrawn’s frown was almost audible, his voice nearly hesitant as he reasoned, "You are a hallucination as well, I gather. I would have remembered sending you to the Asc- to my people," He recovered. “Despite my current predicament.”

“You don't remember beating Nightswan at his own game, and we chased that smug bastard across the galaxy for years." Ezra was surprised he hadn’t switched back to Cheunh to prove himself.

"Somehow I doubt that defeating Nightswan would be considered a victory."

"Certainly never felt like it." Ivant relented. "I think it was what drove you to send me to Ar'alani, though."

"We're with her?"

"This is her commandship."

"Interesting. So you’re saying the Navigator isn't a hallucination, either." Ezra suspected there was a gesture.

"No. This is Un’hee,” There was a pause, likely as the girl shifted in her sleep, at the sound of her name. “You helped rescue her from the Grysks almost three years ago now."

At the mention of their enemies, there was more shuffling. Ezra watched through the smallest slits as Thrawn curled forward to cradle his head in his hands, trying to think. The drugs running rampant in his system made it nearly impossible to make connections, Ezra imagined.

"There is something-" Whatever else he said trailed off, too garbled for Ezra to even consider untangling.

"Easy. It's alright. You'll feel more like yourself once you've slept it off, Thrawn, I promise." Eli rose, so Ezra let his eyes fall completely closed, willing himself still as he continued to listen carefully.

Ivant must have maneuvered him to lay prone, because there was the sound of blankets and weight shifting before Thrawn seemed to address the room in general. "You have not referred to me by title for the entirety of this conversation," He commented. He sounded tired, but curious despite it all. "Why?" He asked around a yawn.

"I outrank you," Ivant said. "I have since you got back."

"I am your responsibility," Thrawn mused. Ezra heard the trust in his voice, the utter lack of doubt. If nothing else, the emotion Thrawn gave to his words were less concealed thanks to his current condition. Ezra wasn't sure that was a good thing. He didn't want Ivant further damaging Thrawn's arguably fragile emotional state. Would Thrawn want Eli Vanto there if he were of sound mind?

The answer was immediate. "Always."

Ezra could feel the way Thrawn’s chaotic aura eased at that. "Then I am sure it will be fine."

The room went quiet, the sound of Thrawn and Un'hee's deep breaths in sleep the only ones to reach Ezra's ears.

He'd almost fallen back to sleep when he heard something else. A whisper. "Sometimes I still don't know what the hell you saw in me." It was Vanto. Ezra didn't dare move.

On a very long delay, came an answer. "Something others did not," Thrawn said, sleep-rough. His voice turned dark. "Incompetent fools. You were always-"

"Sleep, Thrawn." Ivant breathed, command tone hushed but present. "I doubt you're going to remember this, and that's not how I want to have this conversation with you."

Thrawn scoffed, seeing through him. Ezra doubted his eyes were even open. Thrawn was good at that sort of thing. "I was upset with you. Before this."

"You _are_ upset with me," Vanto corrected. "Being out of your mind doesn't change anything. I deserve it."

Out of nowhere the Chiss said, "You are obviously being censured." The slightest irritation was noticeable in his voice. "Surely I would have picked up on that?"

 _"Sleep,"_ Eli pressed. Still, Thrawn must have been looking at him, because he added, far quieter, "I'm not answering you."

"I-"

He sighed. "It doesn't matter right now."

"That could not be farther from the truth. I have never desired," Thrawn slowed, voice fading with each word, "For us to be-" He broke off into deep, easy breaths, too deep to be anything but the precursor to the faintest snore.

Ezra couldn't help but hazzard a peek at the situation when Eli stood a while later. He watched the human pull the blankets properly around Thrawn, who had turned onto his side to face the silent Captain. Then, Vanto leaned down and said something too quietly for Ezra to hear into Thrawn's ear, his hand carefully smoothing the blanket over his shoulder. Thrawn hadn't moved, or even reacted, exactly, but Ezra felt some of that weight Thrawn had been carrying fall away. The strange aura around him, the one that screamed displeasure, discomfort, and wary tension seemed to relax significantly.

Of course Ivant would comfort him. He wasn't a bad guy, exactly, but he had no idea what-

Or, Ezra realized, catching a glimpse of Ivant’s red-rimmed brown eyes and the sad but still so relieved smile on his face, maybe he did know. Maybe Thrawn was onto something about Ivant being censured, but Thrawn hadn't picked up on it until now because his own feelings were in the way. Maybe Ivant really did understand what Thrawn felt for him. Ezra sunk into meditation as easily as he had fallen asleep, content to think on it. Not, he realized afterward, that he ever really needed to.

Captain Ivant sat with him for the rest of the night, leaving just as Ezra feigned wakefulness. He didn't hold Thrawn's hand or even touch him. But he was there, his presence an unspoken comfort, freely given. Ezra got the feeling that this gesture, to Thrawn, just might mean everything.

Thrawn hadn't been wrong about Eli Vanto. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Ar'alani make some changes.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ar'alani makes some changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slower updates for the next week or two, my friends. We just closed on a house and are in the process of relocating. I've spent two days painting, at the mercy of contractors and the like, and am still working my butt off during the day. Thanks for bearing with me.

The lighting in the room was set far more dim than it would be normally, even for a Chiss who could see relatively well in low light. It, compared to the far brighter lights out in the corridor was indicative of a patient meant to be resting or in slumber. Thrawn blinked once, then twice at the ceiling as he took stock. He wasn’t in acute pain, but he certainly felt addled as though he’d been hit one too many times by his old assassin droids.

There was also a heavy weight on his right forearm. He tilted his head just enough to see. “Navigator Un’hee?”

The girl lifted her head, shocked, then turned her youthful gaze upon him. Hopeful, she asked, “Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo?”

His eyes caught movement toward the door. Carefully, he extracted his arm from Un’hee’s grip and stared at the woman watching him with a cool balance of respect and disregard for his personal opinions on being watched in this arguably compromised state.

“You’re not hallucinating,” Karyn Faro said, eyebrows raised. It could have been a statement, or perhaps a rhetorical question she didn’t expect him to answer. She nodded toward him. “You going to stay awake this time?” She drawled, as though she wasn’t expecting much of anything.

“This time?” His question was clipped. Displeased.

Un’hee exhaled. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the last week,” She murmured softly. There was sadness in her voice. At the return of Thrawn’s attention it shifted sharply into worry. “Are you in pain?”

“No, Navigator,” He answered honestly, taking a breath to center his thoughts. The action sent his most recent coherent thoughts to the forefront of his mind, though they were supposedly a week old at this point. Reoriented to the details, he pressed his hands to his chest. Nothing. His tone was low, but sharp with concern for the Navigator at his side. “Are _you_ alright, Un’hee?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She said meekly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I am,” He confirmed before glancing back toward the door. “That still does not explain why I’m looking at you, Karyn Faro. Nor why you are in uniform.”

“Well, the Jedi needs to sleep sometime, and the Admiral called me back.” She shrugged. “I might have been playing a little loose with my words last time we talked.”

“You are not a free agent, as you led me to believe.”

“Not so much,” Faro shrugged. “I’m not much of a freelancer, if I’m being honest.”

“I see.”

Both Faro and the Navigator left the room once the medical team realized him awake. Hours later, following cognitive, neural, and laboratory testing, he’d been declared healed and free to go. He expected to find them, or Bridger waiting for him after he’d been discharged from the med-team’s care.

Instead, it was Admiral Ar’alani herself. “I will show you to your quarters,” She said, instead of any real greeting, any inquiry to his health. He saw the side of her face. Her eyes were bright, but not bright enough to hide the dark shadows beneath them. “You will have an hour, and then I will need to question you about everything you can remember.”

“We can do it now, if you’d prefer,” Thrawn said, never one to put off such events.

“An hour,” She said. “I had your things moved from the _Compass_.”

“We are not returning, Admiral?”

“No.” Ar’alani’s tone was cool, not giving any leeway. “I will explain it all when you report to my office.” They stepped into a larger lift down one of the main hallways. Once inside, she fixed him with a stern look. “You are alright?”

“I feel perfectly normal.”

“And your wounds?” Her eyes dragged downward, landing squarely on his chest.

Thrawn hadn’t seen or felt any evidence of them, and the medics had been plenty thorough about examining him. “What wounds?”

Ar’alani smirked. Her eyebrows twitched upward, almost impressed. “Good,” She said to herself. “Very good.” She turned her gaze back to the door. “I didn’t want them releasing you until you were back to your usual self.”

Smoothly, Thrawn said, “I can assure you I am, Admiral.”

“I can see that,” She quipped. They exited the lift and took a left, then a right. These were the officers quarters, a block of dormitories that surrounded the Navigators’ section. “I hope you will find your accommodations a bit more appropriate than your quarters aboard the _Compass_ ,” She said casually, gesturing to a door that appeared to be directly across from her own, considering the nameplate and ornamentation on the door.

“I suspect your decision is more for my safety and monitoring than for merit.”

She tutted. “The officer’s suite was for merit. The convenience of the suite for your safety and monitoring was coincidence. You would refuse my hospitality?”

“Not at all, Admiral Ar'alani," He said, gravely. "But I am hardly a commanding officer aboard your ship at present."

“Fishing, as always, I see," She grumbled. "Perhaps in an hour, you will feel differently,” She said vaguely, then gestured to the door that led to his new, roomier, and _private_ quarters.

-/

Thrawn's countenance started dark and grew darker as Admiral Ar'alani questioned him about what had happened leading up to his week-long stay in the _Steadfast's_ medical ward. Between himself and the Admiral, two identical tea mugs remained untouched between them, the red-leaf tea long gone cold.

Eventually, she toggled a panel on her desk, opening a drawer and withdrawing a vial of crystal blue powder within a tiny, blastproof canister. 

"Do you know what this is?"

He reached for the canister and she allowed it. Cautiously, Thrawn tilted it this way and that, investigating it. "A spice variant?"

"No," Ar'alani said gravely. "The Grysks call it Blue Death."

"The Grysks?" Thrawn's eyes narrowed. "Admiral are you saying-'

"Yes." She confirmed. She did not need to explain the level of corruption to him. He’d already made the connection. Instead, she continued, "You do not remember anything after the poison began to compromise your lungs."

He nodded. The wispy fragments of his memory during that period were hardly reliable, therefore Thrawn discredited them entirely.

"Un'hee identified the poison."

"And Commander Wes'lash'andi?"

"His body was taken to the capital to be returned to his family." Uncaring of how cold her tea had become, she lifted the cup to her lips. "Naturally the Council was displeased."

"The council is already aware," Thrawn commented. "An unusual move for you. Usually you desire more information."

"A Chiss died at my human officer's hand." She blinked up from the depths of her mug. "On the bridge of the ship I gave him to command, no less."

Thrawn offered no comment. He stroked his chin, contemplative, until Ar'alani continued.

"Commander Wes'lash'andi made a critical error. If he wished to get away with his crime, he should have attempted to poison Un'hee and murder Ivant, who are aware of the poison but wouldn't have been able to speak against him." She looked toward her memory wall, then back down at her hands, displeased.

"Was the Commander's death more harm than help?"

"No," Ar'alani said resolutely. "His death preserved the enemy's supply lines and frightened the crew. They _should_ be frightened. Our military is compromised, even now." The darkness beneath her eyes grew more pronounced when she looked down and away. "The Aristocra is hesitant to believe we have been infiltrated by the Grysks. Using their materials isn't enough for them."

"I doubt they are meeting them face to face."

"Surely not. They must be using a client species."

"Scratchings?"

"No," Ar'alani smiled tightly. "Our working theory is that Emperor Palpatine sent _gifts_ to the Grysks." Darkly, she muttered, "That man does not value life outside of his own."

"Slaves," Thrawn clarified grimly. He didn't comment on his former ruler.

"Indeed," Ar'alani said. "A great many of them."

"Faro provided this knowledge?"

"No, but one of her contacts did. Your former weapons officer, if I remember correctly."

Thrawn hummed and touched the top of the protective canister. "They are making this?"

"With help. There was a direct point of contact. Any Chiss arrogant enough to work with our enemies would hardly deal with some hireling or client."

Thrawn offered an alternative, always willing to play devil's advocate. "Or perhaps, they could think themselves capable of winning over the Grysks' clients, thus giving them a perceived in."

"Do you really believe that?"

His expression was sinister. "I do not." 

-/

Thrawn was hardly the type whose head spun over an overabundance of knowledge. However, the information he'd collected through his lengthy meeting with Admiral Ar'alani was enough to require solitude and additional contemplation. And, though he would hardly let something like this impede him, he was not completely recovered from his brush with death.

"I will work you like a dog," Ar'alani had said. "You, and your would-be Jedi."

In the span of that conversation, Thrawn had been removed from what was his probation in all but name and promoted to the rank of Captain. He highly doubted that to have anything to do with merit for his recent actions. It was hardly traditional for anyone holding less than the rank of Captain to be made the First Officer beneath a Fleet Admiral, after all.

Ezra, according to Ar'alani, would remain outside of the CDF's standard ranks as his aide and assistant to the Navigators, in deference to his status as an unorthodox, but obvious Jedi. It was a move cognizant of his abilities and their similarities to the Navigators, but also recognizing his military experience, both in his time among the Chiss, as well as his upbringing in the more grassroots Rebellion.

And it was Ezra who waited beside his door, casual, but with a tightness to his stance that indicated long-standing concern and worry.

"I, uh," He scratched the back of his head, sheepish. "You didn't get a datapad yet, or else I would have just-"

Thrawn looked him over, not quite as casually as anticipated, then exhaled silently as he made a decision, spun the overgrown child by his shoulders and ushered him into his new quarters. "Sit," He instructed. Officers quarters consisted of a combination office and sitting area with minor amenities, with a door that separated sleeping quarters and a ‘fresher. Ezra’s quarters, located just on the other side of the shared office wall were likely a smaller, mirror image of his own, indicative of his new, unspoken increase in rank.

Instead of coddling the young man, he took a seat across from him in a comfortable wingback chair and raised his eyebrows in silent approval to begin speaking, despite his tiredness. Such was the life of a commander. It had been a reprieve to be responsible only for this one. Now, he would have an entire warship to look after. He looked forward to it.

When a moment passed, and Ezra had done nothing more than gape at him, Thrawn had enough. “Speak, Ezra.”

“You’ve been awake for,” He waved a hand as if it were some measurement of time, “And-” He shrugged. “I dunno. Should’ve expected it, I guess. That was just quick.”

“Hardly. I was out of sorts for days, and we are in a precarious situation. It’s only sensible that Admiral Ar’alani would need all the information at her disposal immediately. I- and by extension, you-” He gave Ezra a meaningful look, “Will begin our duties first thing tomorrow. The Admiral did explain your new role, did she not?”

“Yes.” Ezra smirked. “Faro already hooked me up with every single piece of art we could find from the prominent families, as well as everything ever recovered from a Grysk Warship.”

“You are lucky to have her advice.”

“Oh, I figured out to do that on my own,” Ezra said. “Not that she didn’t try to give me a crash course in how to keep you happy.” He smirked, then said airily, “I figure I know what not to do by now.”

The deadpan look Thrawn graced him with said otherwise.

“Okay, look, I’m gonna be horrible at this, but if nothing else, I should at least be good at keeping the Navigators happy part of the assignment.”

“You will not be horrible at this. You already understand my expectations.” That much was true. Ezra had even lived in close quarters with Thrawn, had been tutored by him, and already relied on him for instruction. “Consider it a return to our original dynamic, but we are both better equipped to handle it.”

“I’m not worried about you,” Ezra said. He rolled his eyes. “You’re the last person I’m worried about working with. I’m more worried about the traitors we’re trying to weed out attempting a repeat performance.”

“The Admiral assured me she is already working on it. And, despite its… shortcomings,” He allowed, “The antidote administered does prevent lasting damage and loss of life.”

“Yeah,” Ezra agreed. “Can’t believe the day would come when I was happy you didn’t kick it,” He said ruefully. “But I am glad you’re alright-” He trailed off.

“As am I.” Thrawn studied Ezra. “What?”

“I was going to say that I’m glad you’re alright, even if the first thing you did when you woke up higher than a spacetrooper was to try and beat me to death with medical equipment.”

Red eyes flashed, narrowing. “I did not.”

“Oh, you did,” Ezra grinned. “And you broke my holorecorder before I could record any of it to share with you.”

After ascertaining the young man was serious, Thrawn finally stated, “That serves you right, since I know you, and your motives couldn’t have been scientific.”

Ezra gave him his best impression of an innocent. Thrawn wasn’t convinced. “Do, uh, you remember any of that?” The Jedi asked, something discerning in his blue gaze. 

The Chiss considered. He remembered fragments of wakefulness during his time in the _Steadfast’s_ medical quarter, but nothing coherent or concrete. “Nothing I could be certain was not a hallucination. I don’t suspect I’ll recover that time, and based on your retelling of events, I don’t believe I wish to.”

“Most of it, no. You certainly weren’t exciting or embarrassing after Faro hit you with a tranq.”

“She did _what?_ ”

“Anyway,” Ezra drawled, shrugging off Thrawn’s very restrained and yet totally obvious surprise, “There is something that happened I think you’ll care about. You can be mad at me for spying on you, but it needed to be done.”

“Spying,” Thrawn said flatly, sarcasm brought to bear. “And what, pray tell, did my hallucination-driven musings tell you?”

“Infuriatingly enough, that you’re pretty much always right.” Ezra took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, then looked Thrawn in the eye. “I don’t think you were wrong about Eli.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn tries to seek out Eli. Grysk poison claims lives aboard the _Steadfast._


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Thrawn tries to seek out Eli. Grysk poison claims lives aboard the Steadfast.

Thrawn prided himself on his commitment and duty, his ethos as a warrior. Being back in his preferred type of position, under a worthy leader no less, was the homecoming he’d been waiting for. He did not mind being planetside, but his home was among the stars, aboard a ship, facing the enemy, poised for battle.

The crew of the _Steadfast_ was eager to prove themselves to him, and there were no hiccoughs or bumps with having a human aboard the bridge - Jedi or otherwise - under Ar’alani’s watchful gaze. They, having experience working together, had an easy adjustment period, and Thrawn’s time away from direct command left better equipped to suggest rather than command his CO when he felt deviations from her orders appropriate. She didn’t indulge him often, and they certainly debated - sometimes in raised voices or dragged away into a conference room - many things. It was a challenge. More than that, it was rewarding.

But something was missing.

Ezra’s words had stayed with Thrawn. Thrawn knew Ivant was still on this ship. So why hadn't he seen him?

Thrawn felt an almost compulsive need to see his now former commanding officer. Ar'alani had mentioned during their discussion that she had recommended him for commendations again and been obstinately denied. It surprised her, but it said something about the state of the Admiralty and Aristocra. The Aristocra had begrudgingly agreed to a promotion for him. The Admiralty had rejected it outright, believing that Ar'alani's human officer deserved punishment, not reward.

If not for the more sinister reasons behind their refusal, Thrawn would have been glad for it. Right now, for the first time in their careers, they were on even ground. 

It wasn't long before he found an in.

The _Steadfast_ , despite being a large ship, had very tightly knit groups of officers, though the majority of the bridge crew did find themselves on opposite ends of whatever Aristocra squabble was on the agenda that cycle. Thrawn had expected to hear from the Navigators, but neither Un'hee or Vah'nya - both of whom were reportedly also still aboard the ship - had been anywhere to be seen. Admiral Ar'alani would not speak of any of them, and her replies to Thrawn's admittedly mild inquiries were met with tight lips.

The officer wasn't anything special. In fact, he was rather ordinary. Gossiped with the rest of the officers, was typically in the officer's lounge after hours drinking with the rest of the staff. But, he’d traded stories about Captain Ivant’s early days in the CDF with the rest of the officers. With him back on the ship, it was a means of taking credit for his part in the making of the man, obviously. He was older and towards the end of his career. Respectful enough but hardly looking for an expansion in his duties.

And he’d spoken within earshot of Faro.

 _Junior Commander_ Faro, who just so happened to find herself in Ar’alani’s shadow when she wasn’t off gathering intel. “Senior Commander Cinsar,” She mentioned to Thrawn casually one evening when she’d been leaving the mess as he’d entered with Ezra one step behind him.

His eyebrows had gone up, but Faro hadn’t said anything else. She hadn’t needed to. The slightest warmth in her usually deadpan gaze, the smallest quirk of her lips said it for her. She knew what he was looking for. He was hardly transparent, that much he was sure of. Outside of his inquiry to Ar’alani, he hadn’t mentioned Ivant, Un’hee, or Vah’nya despite his curiosity.

However, regardless of his well-concealed emotions, Ezra was concerned, which meant the young Jedi would leave no possible lead or ally alone, rallying them to his cause. Thrawn had no idea what his former protege and current… ward (protege came to mind, but he dismissed it) managed to discuss while he was out of commission. Ezra hadn’t been forthcoming on most of it, citing it ‘boring Imperial-speak’ and he’d be damned if he asked Faro for her recount of events He didn’t care to know that badly, nor did he care to give any more information to any more third parties.

He didn’t begrudge the fact that he had these emotions. Emotions and motivations could be powerful tools if utilized correctly so long as one was cognizant of both the potential strengths and weaknesses that came with them. Presently, his desire to know if he’d been correct was a far safer topic when compared to what he’d do if that was the truth. If Vanto was being censured, as his… _subconscious_ self had so helpfully informed Eli (and unknowingly, Ezra), what was the nature of such a thing? That was what Thrawn wanted to know.

So, as if it were an innocent coincidence, he chose to sit at the same table as the Senior Commander, one seat left between them, and Ezra blissfully unaware across the table. Ezra asked a question, and his verb conjugation - while improving - was just suboptimal enough to draw Cinsar’s attention.

Thrawn saw pathways in the conversation, but he was content to let Ezra carry them while he supplemented the precise dialogue necessary to lay his subtle trap.

-/

Meticulously plotting a way for their paths to cross was, in the end, unnecessary. Three days after chatting up Commander Cinsar, Thrawn’s fellow captain made his way to the bridge midway through the second shift. He held a datapad in his hands, but made no effort to consult it. Instead, he carefully extracted Commander Velbb from his conversation with the Admiral about whatever complaint he’d had this hour and pulled Ar’alani aside for a quiet conversation.

Thrawn had been so preoccupied by the sight of russet skin and golden-brown hair in a sea of blue and black that he’d all but missed the appearance of Un’hee.

In an unorthodox move, she marched up to him wrapping her arms around his middle in a hug, her sharp chin digging in just south of his diaphragm. She tipped her head back to look up at him. The look in her eyes reminded him of that night, months ago, when she had sought both he and Ezra out for comfort. It was that alone that kept him from stepping back and out of her embrace. Instead, albeit awkwardly, he patted her back.

"You are back to normal?" She asked. "No lasting effects?"

He nodded, holding her gaze all the while. Still, one non-confirming eyebrow rose in increasing concern for her very affectionate outburst. Convinced, she released him, a dark flush lighting up her cheeks in the infrared. Her actions were impulse driven then, Thrawn supposed. "I hear you identified the poison. You have my thanks." 

She smiled, her facial heat increasing even more. "It was nothing." She tilted her head, adding shyly, "And congratulations on your promotion, Captain."

"Thank you, Navigator Un'hee." He fixed her with an inquisitive look, more than ready to get back to business. "What brings you to the bridge?"

"I was accompanying Captain Eli," She said, looking back to Ivant and Ar'alani briefly. "Something has happened."

"What?"

She shook her head, and he escorted her to a vacant weapons station for privacy. "He would not tell me," Un'hee admitted. "We have not seen him recently. He has been hidden in his office for days, trying to find where and how things have been happening."

"Do you think he's found something?"

Fearful eyes looked up into Thrawn's, and the child Navigator nodded only once. "There are-"

"With me, Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo," Admiral Ar'alani ordered. Her tone indicated there was no time to argue.

The Navigator very carefully skirted around Thrawn, rushing back to Vanto's side. The Captain, who Thrawn could tell was positively exhausted, met his gaze. His pink lips quirked the slightest bit upward, and despite the cool professionalism lingering there, something in Eli's expression softened, just for a second. The moment broke as quickly as it came with Un'hee tucking herself under his arm and against his side. Thrawn made a mental note to revisit this moment in his mind's eye later.

Surprisingly, Admiral Ar'alani didn't comment on Un'hee's inherent clinginess. While she certainly had a soft spot for her Navigators, indulging such behavior (on the bridge, no less) was peculiar. He said nothing, however, choosing to observe as the Admiral gave her orders and led them from the bridge. 

They passed Bridger and Faro on the way to their destination, both of whom wore matching grim expressions. Un'hee was left in their care, rather unwillingly. Whatever she'd been about to say was silenced with a brief, sharp look from Eli.

When they arrived at their destination, Thrawn understood why the Navigator hadn't been allowed to accompany them. They entered the medical quarter, but instead of turning toward the treatment area, they went to the morgue.

Three male and one female Chiss, their modesty preserved with sheets pulled to their clavicles. Even in death, their faces still held the slightest tension.

"Do not touch them with your bare hands," Ar'alani warned, confirming his suspicions.

"Blue death?" He asked, already suspecting the poison to be to blame.

"You have not seen it," She said. "Our medical reports are-"

Vanto, who had been silent this entire time, already donned gloves and had begun to peel back the sheet on the first of them. Then, he went to each subsequent body and similarly drew their shrouds down to just above the waistline. He stood back. Now, he wouldn't meet Thrawn's gaze. His gaze held hidden anger, and he kept it pointed at the floor.

"There was no time to administer the antidote?" Thrawn asked Ar'alani.

Ar'alani looked to Eli. Tension thickened the air. Eli didn't look up. Thrawn slid his eyes between them, trying to discern the meaning without giving his curiosity away.

"No," Eli said. His voice was worn, subdued. His gaze flicked from Ar'alani, something wordless there, then to Thrawn. "When it's done right, the poison kills quickly. Under ten minutes. The wrong amount takes longer, and causes more pain, as you no-doubt recall."

Ar'alani gave Eli a strong glare about something he'd said. He didn't respond. Interesting, he thought.

"The black spots?" He indicated the mess of acid-formed wounds on one of their chests.

"Where the acid comes close to the surface, almost eating through. It destroys the lung, and eats the bone. Metabolized through skin, and only grows more acidic by the chemical process of breathing. The color is blood and acid, beneath the skin," Ar'alani said.

"Even without an immediately fatal dose, it works quickly," Thrawn said. "I was unable to breathe within two minutes of Commander Wes'lash'andi dosing me with the poison."

Ar'alani hummed. "We are trying to find the reason why they were poisoned." She looked up from one of the bodies to Vanto. "Captain Ivant has been trying to figure out which families are involved. Un'hee's recount of events mentioned Copero. Commander Wes'lash'andi mentioned it to her before you showed symptoms. Considering when it happened, we pulled all of the ship's logs and all data from the shipyard from a month prior to our docking until the day we left."

"He would not be so overt," Thrawn commented. He examined the wounds more closely. They were ugly and odiferous, even despite the harsh chemical-clean smell of the morgue. "It was meant to deceive."

"It was," Vanto agreed. "Which is why I did more than that." He gestured to the datapad tucked between his arm and torso. "There was nothing smuggled in Copero, though that was a hint. He narrowed down our location." The human looked between them. "Commander Slasha was considered neutral as far as politics was concerned. However, he was seeing someone aboard the _Steadfast_ prior to his transfer to the _Compass_. He gestured to the female Chiss. "Lieutenant Dorn'ati'vano. He talked about her often, and fondly." 

Ar'alani sighed. "Her family is loyal to House Inrokini."

"Her grandmother is of that house," Eli confirmed.

"Are you suggesting suicide?" Thrawn asked, frowning. 

"Not exactly." Eli sighed, and gave Ar'alani a significant look.

"There are more infiltrators aboard. We believe one group eliminated the other as a means to prevent incrimination."

"And the rest of House Inrokini's representation in the crew?" Thrawn wondered aloud. "That should be where we begin."

"They are here, Mitth'raw'nuruodo,” Ar’alani indicated. “Dead."

Thrawn's expression darkened. "Were they found together?"

"Yes," Ar'alani said.

The Chiss captain very carefully examined the deceased woman's fingernails. "Her fingers are damaged, like she touched the poison directly," He commented mildly. "And yet you insist this is _not_ suicide?"

Eli cleared his throat. “No. This was done intentionally by outside parties.”

“Your evidence, if you please, Captain.”

Ar’alani fixed Thrawn with a look, as if to remind him that he wasn’t Vanto’s commander anymore. Vanto didn’t seem to mind. “The bodies were discovered hours after their death. It’s a little hard to tell what with the poison doing what it does, but they were dead for at least eight hours before they were found, seeing as they didn’t show up for their shifts.”

Thrawn watched Eli intently, waiting for him to expand upon his point. “This would look like a suicide, if one wasn’t aware of what they were working with, or all the details.” The human stood at attention, and despite his obvious exhaustion, cut a very confident, convincing profile. Now was hardly the time for Thrawn to consider attraction, but he could not deny that his fellow Captain’s combination of cool confidence and warm eyes, the way his lips curled around his Cheunh would be devastatingly distracting if there weren’t larger matters at hand.

“And those details?” Thrawn asked, voice low, coiled. Ready to see the patterns in whatever data Vanto had no-doubt collected. From the corner of his eye, Thrawn could see Ar’alani roll her eyes and put her hands on her hips. He didn’t have time to figure out what was exasperating her so.

Eli smiled. It spoke of momentary victory. A benchmark met. “We should have received a transport vessel at the end of the overnight shift. The manifest said it was supposed to deliver back up fuel and shield generators for the next cycle. It was a precautionary shipment. Someone waved it off.”

“These four?” Thrawn indicated the deceased.

“No.” His expression turned grim. “They were informed that the shipment was cancelled by someone else. Their communications, from what we could recover, indicated they were furious about it.” Ivant looked to Ar’alani, who nodded. “And it wasn’t until after their time of death that the ship was deleted from our logs. Whomever was responsible expected us to be tripped up at a quadruple suicide.” Chiss were prideful. Suicide, to them, was not an honorable death, and thus would be treated as an extreme exception, the indicators important to the families of the deceased as it would be considered a blight on their reputation.

Thrawn hardly cared about social stigma. “How did you know a shipment had been deleted? You did not say you pulled future manifests,” He said instead. 

“I didn’t,” Eli agreed, shrugging, “Didn’t think I had to. I keep tabs on those automatically.”

Ar’alani said, “Captain Eli’van’to is obsessive about cargo and supply inventory, despite his express wishes to hold a command position,” For the Admiral, such a statement was practically an affectionate jibe. “Who am I to deny him his love of supply analysis?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Un’hee tires of keeping secrets.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Un’hee tires of keeping secrets.

Un'hee fidgeted beside Ezra. Across from them, Karyn Faro - who, despite the Chiss's attempts otherwise, retained both first and last names - updated Ezra on the situation. He knew whatever Faro shared would be expanded upon by Thrawn, but he did try his best to be attentive. The Navigator, however, squirmed in discomfort, as if she were being held against her will. She was even more difficult to feel in the Force today, murky and hiding, as if trying curling her aura into a ball.

"I know this is scary," Commander Faro said, trying to console her. She was good with most Navigators, but what she knew of Un’hee’s experiences before Thrawn and Ar’alani had found her definitely disqualified her from fitting under that umbrella. "Nothing will happen to you. They gave Captain Thrawn an antidote, so you have nothing to worry about."

Ezra patted her back gently. "Faro's right. Everything is going to be okay."

The girl hummed something noncommittal in reply and drew her knees up to her chest. "Okay," She replied listlessly, mostly just so they'd stop talking to her. Her red eyes closed almost entirely, but she didn't fight Ezra, who kept rubbing her back. "Will Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo come back soon?"

"He will," Commander Faro confirmed. "We'll no doubt meet him later."

Un'hee hummed and turned her face downward, chin pressed to her knees. Ezra exchanged a glance with Faro, but there was nothing they could say or do to console her.

By the time the captains arrived at the officer’s lounge they’d posted up in, the girl had fully withdrawn, her morose red eyes sliding the length of the room and back before she let them fall closed. “Feeling okay, Navigator?” Ivant asked her quietly, crouching down to eye level.

She hummed, but didn’t expand upon her feelings. There was a silent conversation there, had with only their eyes, and completed with a gentle caress of the Navigator's head.

Ivant stood. “Ezra, do you think you could walk her back to the Navigator’s section?” His wood-brown gaze met the young Jedi’s, then swiveled to Thrawn for a brief, pointed moment, then he added, “If it’s alright with Captain Thrawn, of course. Given the current situation, I do not want any of the Navigators alone outside of their section. I’d walk her back myself, but I need to speak with the admiral about something else. Faro, you’re welcome to join me.”

“Do I want to?” She asked dryly.

“Probably not,” He said. “I’d suspect she’d rather you go back to the bridge.”

“Sounds like enough of an order for me.” Faro rose, considering squeezing Un’hee’s shoulder in a show of support, but decided against it. The little Navigator seemed like she’d jerk at the slightest stimulus, and Faro had no desire to upset her further.

Ezra blinked up at Thrawn. “Is that-”

“That is acceptable,” Thrawn agreed.

The human captain nodded, patting Un’hee’s head. “Call for me if you need to, okay?”

Un'hee hummed. "I will, Eli," She murmured.

Ivant proceeded to nod to Thrawn, then Ezra, and finally saw himself out. Faro was already long gone. Un'hee followed her human commanding officer’s movements with her eyes, remaining on the couch after the door closed automatically behind him. 

In the silence that followed, Ezra stood. "I should take you back," He said. "Do you-"

"I need to speak with Mitth'raw'nuruodo," She blurted. Un'hee looked from Ezra to Thrawn. She wrung her hands in her lap nervously, then realized what she was doing, inhaled deeply, and turned the full weight of her gaze on Ezra as she stilled. "Alone." 

Ezra's eyebrows crawled upward, and again he sought Thrawn's guidance.

The Chiss spoke slowly. "Navigator-"

Un'hee stood and whirled around on Thrawn. Her eyes were hard, yet glossy with the promise that she'd resort to tears if she had to. "Please, Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

Thrawn considered. Then, he nodded his assent to Ezra. "Wait outside."

"Could you walk me back, instead?"

At the evolving request, Thrawn's eyes narrowed. "I believe the goal is to have a human with you, Navigator Un'hee, considering our perilous circumstances."

"I have confidence in your ability to protect me, and vice versa," She said, and meant it despite Thrawn's deepening frown. She was certain he had no qualms about his own ability to protect her - with his life, if need be - but what she could do probably seemed rather limited, considering. She pushed her argument with a forced cheerful, "Besides, the Navigators' Section is practically around the corner."

-/

Truly, Un’hee didn’t mind if Ezra heard them. She doubted much stayed a secret between Ezra and Thrawn, specifically when it came to matters like these. This might, for all Un’hee knew, pertain to him as well. After all, he had abilities somewhat like hers and Vah’nya’s, like most of the other Navigators. She wondered if someday the Chiss could be like Jedi, but not like the Jedi were now. Like the old texts mentioned them: warriors of sound mind and pure heart who fought for peace and justice. 

That seemed like a far-away dream, but a lovely one nonetheless. She thought about it from time to time, usually until Vah’nya reminded her she should be studying or Eli tapped her nose or patted her on the head and asked if she’d grown bored of keeping him company in the stillness of his office.

At her side, and much, much taller, Thrawn slowed his naturally longer gait to match hers, so that two of her steps was the equivalent of one of his. It was yet another reminder that he was kind, even if it remained hidden beneath that serious exterior. “As you said, Navigator, your section is truly around the corner. If there is something you wish to say-”

Un’hee exhaled slowly, controlling her breath as she focused. She looked first with her feelings, trying to see if anyone remained nearby, then followed up with a very obvious look around to confirm what her mind’s eye had not seen. She wanted to trust her gut - she did, really - but she had to take every precaution.

“It’s- about what happened aboard the _Compass_ ,” She began, trying to choose her words carefully. “With Commander Wes’lash’andi,” She continued. Was he curious that she didn’t sound fearful or nervous anymore? In another life, or maybe even in this one, if things had continued the way they were, she probably would have been afraid to say the name of Thrawn’s assailant aloud.

He did look down at her. She craned her neck up to peer up at him in turn. “What about it?”

“There is something you should know about what happened. Something I think the admiral is afraid to tell you.”

A door thrown open down the corridor made them both look up, the hydraulic hiss-click almost like an exclamation followed by the sharp cry of, “Un’hee!”

“Hello Senior Navigator,” Thrawn said, looking between the girls. Vah’nya crossed her arms over her chest, and Un’hee raised her eyebrows. “I was just dropping Navigator Un’hee off before returning to my duties.”

“Thank you,” Vah’nya replied, never once taking her eyes off the younger Navigator. “You cannot be serious,” She said to Un’hee. Neither Navigator broke eye contact. “I should have known you’d manipulate things. I told Eli-”

“We have to tell him,” Un’hee interrupted. “If we don’t, things will only get worse.” She looked up to Thrawn. “He deserves to know. And we’re the only ones who can.”

Unwilling to bear witness to their squabbling, Thrawn’s lips parted and he began to intervene.

It had not been necessary though, because Vah’nya sagged as if defeated, her shoulders losing a bit of tension. “You’re right,” Vah’nya admitted softly before Thrawn could utter a word. “Captain, Navigator, please.” She slapped her palm to the door toggle for her office. “Come in. I’ll make some tea.”

Vah’nya seemed to have more trouble with whatever was going on than Un’hee did. The younger navigator noticed Thrawn’s confusion, the way it overlapped with concern in the silence of the office suite until Vah’nya rejoined them. Un’hee sat to Thrawn’s right, ankles crossed and tucked against the support running between the chair legs. She only felt resolve, while Vah’nya was more resigned.

“If it bothers you so much, you can leave, and pretend you don’t know what I’m doing,” Un’hee murmured.

“You know I can’t,” Vah’nya said. She set wintermint tea in front of them both before sitting behind her desk with her own mug held between her hands to warm her. It was a junior officer’s quarters, repurposed to fit the eldest navigator’s tastes. Star charts were given ample space to project upon the wall to Thrawn’s left, and a music player - vintage, by the look of it - sat in the corner inconspicuously. After a moment, she opened a drawer and pulled out a jamming device, laying it between them. “I’d rather this be done safely,” She said. “And frankly,” She pushed her long blue-black hair over her shoulder so that it could tumble straight down her back. With it tucked behind her ears, she looked younger. Or at least, she did, until she looked up into Thrawn’s eyes. “I agree with you, Un’hee. Thrawn deserves to know.”

Thrawn waited patiently, not outwardly staring at either of them until they’d initiated it. “Navigators, what exactly is going on?” He asked, blinking down at the device and back to Vah’nya, then finally Un’hee.

“There is no antidote,” Un’hee said. “For the Grysk’s ‘Blue Death.’ They’re working on it, but…” The younger girl trailed off.

“That is impossible.” Thrawn considered them both, as if perhaps their expressions would be capable of giving him additional information either for or against the young Navigator’s statement. “I would be dead.”

Vah’nya watched Thrawn as he addressed Un’hee. His posture was tense. Un’hee cocked her head, ready to fight back- “You know that isn’t true,” Vah’nya interrupted this tim. The Senior Navigator smiled softly. "It's hardly impossible."

“Unfortunately, Senior Navigator, I don’t-”

“When Karyn Faro brought back the kidnapped Navigators, months ago” Vah’nya pressed, voice soft but serious, “You were watching me.”

The Captain looked at the holoprojection of their current system, cast in blue and orange upon the wall beside him, though he didn’t truly see it. He was revisiting his memory of the day Vah’nya mentioned. His bright eyes narrowed and he looked up at her sharply, the motion jerky. “The medics treated them.”

“I healed the Navigator’s face while you watched,” Vah’nya revised. “I have never seen Eli or Ar’alani so furious with me for deviating from the plan.”

“You said you hadn’t done that on purpose!” Un’hee squeaked, indignant.

Vah’nya shrugged, lifting the tea to her lips and taking a long sip before she continued to address the _Steadfast's_ first officer, “I had hoped you would have caught on and come to me, but a rational mind will supplement reason and logic to bridge certain unfathomable gaps. The Admiral believed me to be clinically insane until I proved it to her,” She sniffed, "So I hardly blame you for your skepticism or disbelief."

Thrawn steepled his fingers in front of him, elbows resting on the armrests of his chair as leaned forward. “Navigator Vah’nya,” He began slowly, and it was obvious he didn’t entirely believe her, but he would not completely discount her without gathering enough information, “You mean to tell me you were able to save my life from certain death with these abilities?”

“Not Vah’nya,” Un’hee said. She turned entirely in her chair, as to face him. There was no pride in her tone, only conviction. “I did.”

He slumped back in his chair, and that single uncharacteristic movement was telling enough. Some part of him believed them. “How?”

Un’hee and Vah’nya exchanged a glance. “We forget ourselves, Mitth’raw’nurodo,” Vah’nya began. “We have forgotten what it means to be a warrior. We do not need weapons or ships to boost our ego and bolster our pride. A warrior’s duty is to protect. And a Navigator’s calling is to protect the warriors of the Chiss Ascendancy, to guide them through the battles yet to come.”

“This is the goal of Project Compass,” Thrawn said. Such secrecy would make sense, if it were true... “You are cultivating new abilities for the Navigators.”

“Yes,” Vah’nya agreed. “As such, Un’hee’s abilities manifested to save you,” She added. “We believe that moments of great strife create opportunities for Navigators to embrace their abilities. It’s different for each of us.”

Thrawn looked back to Un’hee. “If what she is saying is true, I owe you a great debt, Navigator Un’hee.”

“You saved me from the Scratchlings when we met. It is a debt repaid,” Un’hee smiled. “More than that, though, I wanted to protect you.”

Thrawn’s curt nod seemed to be accompanied almost by relief, though neither Navigator commented on such a thing. The Captain thought it over carefully. “Your moment of great strife,” He began, each word heavy, articulated carefully. Of course he’d put together the reason for Vah’nya’s title, he was one of the most brilliant minds the Ascendancy had ever encountered. “It-”

The door slid open and both Navigators froze. In the doorway stood Captain Ivant. His eyes were dark. “What is the meaning of this?” He asked, voice pinched. He knew, with barely a second’s glance into the room what had already begun to transpire. “The Admiral gave you specific orders,” He said to Vah’nya. “You are not-”

“We made the decision to tell him,” Un’hee admitted. She did not look guilty or fearful. “You are not a Chiss. You would have been punished. This way-”

“She’ll likely punish us all, Chiss or not.” Ivant’s eyes were wild yet glazed, as if sifting through his brain for some calculation he could run to salvage things. “I can’t protect you from this.”

“You don’t have to,” Vah’nya added to Un’hee’s earlier statement. “I don’t care what she thinks-”

“You’re the one who had the vision of the Grysks exploiting him for information,” Eli yelled, his drawl bleeding ever so slightly into his Chuenh. “Or did you forget that, Senior Navigator?”

“Vision?” Thrawn queried, though Un’hee wrapped her tiny, cold fingers around his wrist to get his attention and gave a subtle shake of her head, an indication to wait.

Vah’nya rose in fury, gesturing to Thrawn, who watched the back and forth of their argument with cool interest. “And I told her in my vision that he found out on his own. We had to tell him. He deserved to hear it from us. Aren’t you the one who-”

“I know,” Eli relented. “I know he does.” He sighed, stress and exhaustion palpable in the way he held himself. “But you should have asked her.”

“You’ve asked her for permission enough times for us all.” Vah’nya gestured to her chair, willing to give it up to him, even as he declined. Un’hee waited for Eli to approach to let him pick her up and situate her on his lap instead. Vah’nya returned to her chair with a final, “I respect her, I would die for her and our crew, but you are my commanding officer, Eli.”

“And she is mine.”

“Not when it comes to Project Compass. Not really.” Vah’nya's eyes flashed with some unspoken secret or agreement. “Technically, for the greater good of the Ascendancy, she gave you complete autonomy.”

Eli hummed dismissively, aware of Thrawn’s piercing gaze upon him at her insinuation. It was highly improbable within the CDF, and nearly impossible for such status to be given to a human. Still, he asked them, “You two are confident your actions will make all the difference?”

Both Navigators nodded.

Thrawn looked Eli in the eye when the latter turned to face him all the way, holding his gaze for a long moment. It was almost so long that the rest of the room felt like it didn’t exist. Neither Navigator interrupted, both girls patiently waiting. Their wordless exchange was a challenge, an appraisal, an unspoken test. Perhaps Eli was trying to ascertain Thrawn’s goodness or affinity for honesty, Un’hee thought, then considered whom she was talking about. If Eli were doing anything, she suspected it was actually trying to gauge how Thrawn was reacting to what he’d learned. He might pretend to be like a Chiss, but Un’hee knew better. Kindness was in his nature, even more so when it came down to someone he cared about. And Un’hee knew he cared for Thrawn most of all.

“Alright,” Eli said finally. He took a deep breath to brace himself. His eyes warmed. Un’hee released Thrawn’s wrist to pat Eli’s arm, which held her securely on his lap, a show of support that he’d come around. “So where’d you leave off?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Ar’alani, Mitth’raw’nuruodo, and Eli’van’to finally have the talk.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Ar’alani, Mitth’raw’nuruodo, and Eli’van’to finally have the talk.

Ar’alani was furious. One look at Thrawn and she knew that he’d known. His eyes were wide and his focus was off, as though he’d just been given knowledge that was too much to process. His usual clarity had been replaced by an obvious haze. It had been a possibility, even more now that she had promoted him to be her second in command. Among her staff, only Senior Captain Kresh knew somewhat of Project Compass’s objectives, but she’d sent him away to bring her key players closer. Kresh understood that Ivant’s project was far superior to his pride.

The admiral allowed his floundering to carry on for the rest of the shift, only expressing her disdain for his unusually sloppy behavior with sharp commands to set him back on track and several sighs between impressive eye rolls. The rest of her bridge crew were too busy being concerned with her mood to notice that the captain was consumed by his thoughts, and only when there was less than an hour to go in the shift did she vacate the bridge with a sharp order for Thrawn to seek her out the moment he completed his own duties.

Then, when the hydraulics of the aft doors closed behind her, she raised Captain Ivant on comms. Vehemently, she hissed, “If you are not in my office by the time I arrive-”

“I’m already waiting for you, ma’am,” Ivant cut in, apologetic and polite - or at least as polite as one could be, interrupting their furious commanding officer. “I know,” He added, softer.

She didn’t bother replying, stalking through the hallways of her ship like a predator who’d scented a wounded animal. It took only a few minutes to reach her office from the bridge. She swept past Ivant as she entered, ignoring his rise to attention and salute, the fist clenched over his heart. She did not tell him to sit. “You _will_ tell me everything,” She growled. “You. Will. Not. _Lie._ ”

“Yes, admiral,” Ivant said, determination flavoring his tone.

So it was to be like that, she thought to herself. Ivant would go on the defensive, insisting that he had good reason to go against her. She didn’t doubt that he understood the situation, that he would inform Thrawn of their secrets so lightly, but she also knew he was loyal to Thrawn, to a fault. He saw the best in him - like she did - but at times (most times, she thought, though she’d tried to help him see reason over his devotion) to a far more blinding degree. She didn’t enjoy keeping Thrawn out of the loop, of course. It was a handicap she didn’t enjoy. Thrawn’s reasoning skills, his ability to see what others did not, was help they could use. However, Ar’alani was not willing to risk telling secrets to anyone who would likely end up in enemy hands, who was a prize so clearly coveted. It was not personal. 

The slightest roll of her desk chair was silent, the tension in the room thick as she positioned herself comfortably, one leg crossed over the other, shoulders pulled back, posture coiled like a serpent waiting to strike. She watched him evaluate her, assess her emotions. Good, she thought, watching him swallow, noticing the slightest glow of heat peeking out from beneath his high-collared tunic. He should be worried. Any other admiral would have him detained without hearing him out. She could tell he knew.

“You told Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” She accused.

“Yes,” He agreed, meeting her gaze head on. He did not defend himself further.

“Yes?” Her tone escalated sharply, mezzo-alto to soprano, like the opening notes of a furious symphony. “Tell me, Eli’van’to, why I am not reaching across this desk to beat you senseless. It is becoming a more enticing possibility by the second.” She clenched her fists, then folded them across the desk in front of her.

“Vah’nya and Un’hee had already begun telling him the nature of our work,” He began slowly, choosing his words with the care indicative of his fragile position. “Un’hee coerced Thrawn into speaking with her privately. Vah’nya caught them, and pulled them aside. She believed to control what information Un’hee was about to leak, since she did not believe Mitth’raw’nurodo would let it go without a fight.”

It was probable, however, “Did you conspire with either Navigator?”

“No,” Eli said, and at Ar’alani’s frightening glower, the way her eyes glowed with the promise of retribution for lying to her, he added, “Not that the thought didn’t cross my mind, but I would like to think I have some honor and I don’t particularly enjoy manipulating innocent Navigators to play military politics, whether they’re willing to or not.”

Admiral Ar’alani’s focus remained pointed, like a blade, sharp on his face. He did not flush further, there was no tic to indicate that he’d been lying. Eli’van’to had learned a long time ago not to lie, especially not to a Chiss if at all possible, and most importantly never to lie to her. It struck her that he didn’t typically lie at all, not even in the beginning, which was likely more of an ingrained character trait than anything Thrawn could have taught. Thrawn was a master at deception and half-truths, and that, Ar’alani had always believed, was because he’d been capable of deceiving even himself on some level. It would have been a useful skill with the Aristocra and the Admiralty had her not been so inept at the art of politics. Sometimes she wondered how far the Empire’s ruler had dangled him on precarious puppet strings before he realized he’d been made into a pawn. Other times she wondered if he knew and simply valued himself so little in regards to what he believed would benefit the greater good.

If there was one trait both her captains shared, it was extreme understatement of their value to the Ascendancy as the fundamental beings they were.

She sighed and waved her hand, her anger cresting like a wave reaching shore and rolling back within the greater sea. “Sit, Ivant,” She ordered, sighing.

He nodded and did so, waiting for her to continue. She did, though not without rubbing her temples first. “You sought to control things as Vah’nya did,” She supposed. “Were you successful?”

“They told him there’s no antidote, and how he survived the incident back on the _Compass_. I rather thought that was enough.”

“Obviously. He floundered through the rest of his shift as if concussed. Did he _see_ how it works?”

“No. You know the girls, they’re not for needless violence, though Thrawn did ask.”

“I am not surprised,” She said. “Though I am quite concerned that Vah’nya agreed.”

“So am I,” Ivant nodded, crossing his arms as he leaned back, collecting his thoughts. “She believed that the semantics of how Thrawn learned - being told before he could discover it for himself - would change things.”

“Yes, she’d said as much to me,” Ar’alani hummed. “But do you believe it?”

“They do,” He said, but conceded, “I don’t know what to think. Vah’nya definitely wasn’t keen on telling him more than what Un’hee knows, which, thankfully, isn’t all that much.”

The admiral pursed her lips, considering. “Would you tell him the rest?”

“Our research, yes. The other part,” Eli shook his head. “Not yet. That doesn’t leave the three of us.”

“Good,” She interrupted, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “We are on the same page then.”

Ivant wasn’t able to contain his look of surprise. “Really? You want to reveal our research? I thought-”

Ar’alani rose from her desk, the captain following her with a subtle turn of his head as she procured liquor and glasses - three glasses, Eli noted - from the auspiciously located cabinet near her memory wall. “I do not enjoy keeping secrets, though I suspect you have always assumed otherwise.”

“It’s part of command, ma’am,” He offered tentatively. “I understand the necessity.”

“Yes,” She agreed, “But we both have larger aspirations. If Un’hee and Vah’nya trust him with their most precious secrets - in spite of my wishes - I must take that into account and adapt. It is a new dawn in the Ascendancy. It must be. I must trust them, as I trust you, and as I hope you have come to trust me.”

“I do, Admiral.” He paused, then revised, “Ar’alani.”

She nodded. “Very good, Ivant.”

-/

Thrawn found himself confronted with the last thing he had been expecting to see when he arrived for his post shift-report: Eli, sitting across from Ar’alani, the ornate decanter set in the middle of the desk, liquor of varying levels in each of their glasses as they conversed quietly.

“I’ll spare you the tedium,” She said, gesturing to the vacant seat to Eli’s left. “You are off duty. Sit.” She nodded to Eli, who pulled the stopper from the top of the decanter and poured a healthy glass of liquor - too much for Chiss standards - into a third glass Thrawn hadn’t been able to see.

Still recovering, Thrawn said with confusion shadowing his features, “This isn’t necessary, I-”

 _“Sit,”_ Ar’alani ordered. “I happen to know you like this particular infusion, and after the day you’ve had, you obviously need something a bit more bracing than the Navigator’s wintermint tea.”

Thrawn looked between both of them, mind already at work. “You told her what the Navigators and I discussed,” He said to Eli.

Ivant’s eyebrows rose, almost as if questioning Thrawn’s reason to believe he wouldn’t have told the Admiral.

“Navigator Vah’nya insinuated you had autonomy.”

“He does,” Ar’alani answered, then desisted as her answering for the human in their midst only suggested otherwise.

Said human took a slow pull from his drink. “Still, it’s a matter of trust. You gave it away before I could tell her, though, which is part of why you’re here.”

“I will admit that this is a bit of a surprise.”

“Yes,” Ar’alani admitted. “You sent him here to identify Navigators within our midst,” Her lips curled in the beginnings of a smile. “You should know he’s entirely failed at realizing that objective.”

His eyes caught Eli’s glass, inclined in her direction in a sarcastic toast. 

Instead of a rebuke, her smile warmed. That was arguably more startling than Eli’s improper gesture in the wake of their commanding officer. “What he has contributed is far more valuable,” She said. “It sounds fantastical, doesn’t it?”

“Navigators who can heal,” Thrawn said, after a very tiny sip of his drink. His voice was quiet, awed, almost hoarse. “Because of a desire to protect.”

Ar’alani’s curved lips took on a true smile, then. Though severe, there was a kindness, a warmth behind her eyes that her smile seemed to brighten, like kindling catching fire. “Yes. A concept that I did not understand until it was shown to me.”

“You’ve seen their abilities at work?” Thrawn asked her.

“In extremes? Twice. Most recently when Un’hee stepped in to save your life,” She began. “The first… it was a little more than two years ago now,” She informed him, her eyes flickering to Ivant before settling back on Thrawn. “On Copero.”

“Vah’nya didn’t elaborate with Un’hee in the room,” Eli said as he knocked back the rest of his drink. He hadn’t had it on the desk before Ar’alani had lifted the decanter to refill his glass. They shared a glance. “Good times,” He said softly.

“That was anything but. You,” She gestured to Ivant, “Were lost. We were waiting for your heart to stop.” She didn’t comment on Thrawn lifting his drink to his lips, nor how it remained poised in front of what must have been one hell of a frown if the furious, unmasked concern his eyes was any indication. She blinked slowly, pulling up the memory in her mind’s eye. “And Vah’nya had all but been pronounced clinically insane.”

For Thrawn’s benefit, Eli cut in. “The Grysks tortured us for months. We managed to escape, but there was a price for doing so,” He said, without further explanation. “I wasn’t conscious when the Steadfast found us. Separating her from me wasn’t-” He shrugged. “Judging by the way Un’hee clung to you after she’d helped you, I believe it’s a psychosomatic side effect. It’d be like leaving someone vulnerable without adequate guards posted to protect them.” He swallowed a little more of his drink and set the glass on Ar’alani’s desk. “But I wasn’t able to tell them, and Vah’nya was conscious and traumatized. Without seeing it, it’s not easy to believe, but it isn’t something to be done lightly.”

“It does not seem to hurt them, though it does take a great deal of energy,” Ar’alani explained.

Thrawn looked between them, then settled his gaze on Eli. “You said there was a price for your escape,” He trailed off, expectantly.

“A bomb on one of the inner hatches. I never would have deactivated it in time, and it would have killed Vah’nya, so,” He didn’t go on about his injuries. “I knew about her abilities, they were the only reason I’d lived as long as I had. She couldn’t heal me completely, mind you, but she’s a smart woman. She’d pulled me back from the brink more times than I could count. She thought it was selfish,” He admitted, gazing at something unseen at a distance, “But I didn’t want to die any more than she wanted to be left alone.”

“Anyway,” Ar’alani interrupted, when her human captain said no more, her voice soft and far-away, “I had allowed Vah’nya to see him, against my better judgement.” She smiled softly. “She’d been non-verbal for days, but when I led her into his room, she sat at the edge of his bed, took his hand in hers and, well,” Ar’alani shrugged. “It was like the mediation the Jedi-boy is so fond of,” She said, “It was strange, seeing her in a trance like that, even as the damage done to him seemed to melt away.”

“I came to the next morning,” Eli took over, jolting Thrawn from his thoughts. “Now, we think that the time away was probably for the best. Vah’nya would have exhausted herself to the point of self-harm to heal me. She had been, for a long while.”

Thrawn looked at the glass in his hands, his fingers woven tightly around it. “Was Un’hee harmed treating my affliction?” He asked carefully.

“We watched over her,” Ar’alani said. “Both of us. She was tired, but not harmed.”

“Without being injured, the girls are stronger than we give them credit for. There are more factors than physical strength at play. Force of will, compassion, a lot of it plays into things,” Ivant told him. “There’s more though.”

Ar’alani nodded. “You failed to predict navigators as we’d hoped you would,” She began, her gaze sharply focused on Eli. “But you did tell us how to keep them.”

“Keep them?”

Ar’alani pulled a holopad from her desk, passed through several layers of encryption, and toggled a key to project data in front of them. “This data is pulled from key Navigators. We cannot provide funding for mysticism - even if we can prove its existence - without providing some kind of data, something to indicate we can replicate what we’ve achieved, even if it’s improbable.”

“You’ve found a way to identify which Navigators are more likely to present with this ability?” Thrawn frowned. “Why now? Surely if this ability were possible we would have-”

Ar’alani pointed to Ivant.

“No. The Navigators are the ones responsible,” He said. “Not me.”

“Yes, you,” She said. “You are the reason Vah’nya was strong enough to subject herself to the Grysks. Your courage inspired her to be brave. Your compassion and sacrifice lit a fire within her. And Un’hee,” She shook her head. “That girl believes you to be the guardian she so desperately desires. You protect and encourage her. You teach her to convert her weaknesses into strengths, where we would have told her to cover them up and move beyond them.”

Sensing his obvious discomfort, Ar’alani addressed Thrawn. “The Ascendancy owes you a great debt, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. You sent us an ally that may very well save our people from the crippling darkness that threatens to consume us from within.”

“By healing them?”

“Look at the data, Thrawn,” Ar’alani gestured to the projection between them.

Bright red eyes scanned through the orange and blue data, the numbers that peaked and stayed, the indicator marks. “Exposure to Navigators who have come into this ability will allow them to more easily attain the levels necessary to manifest it themselves,” Thrawn observed.

“Correct,” Eli seemed to adopt a teaching tone. “What else?”

“It is linked to emotional maturity. How they process their emotions. The ones with higher emotional output, in terms of neural activity indicated here, are more likely to be good candidates.” Thrawn said.

“They are,” He agreed. “We have many candidates identified. The younger ones will be easier to work with, but it would be foolish to discredit older Navigators who are more self aware.”

Ar’alani toggled another chart on her pad. “And this, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Tell me what you see.”

“These two are higher than the rest,” He began. “Navigators Un’hee and Vah’nya?” He questioned, to which the admiral nodded. “You did not collect as much neural data before this happened.” He indicated a peak, before a plateau in the far longer line that indicated Vah’nya’s brain activity. “This was after her time with the Grysks,” He said, standing as if the projection were tangible. He followed the line. “It had been steadily diminishing,” He reasoned, “But ceased after she’d-” Thrawn whirled around to face Eli as the hand he’d had outstretched flew back to cover his mouth.

Eli smiled, and this time it was unrestrained, genuine.

“We do not have all the data yet from Un’hee, but as you can see, her levels have begun to even out at a level far exceeding Vah’nya’s, even before she managed to save your life,” Ar’alani said, though it could have fallen on deaf ears for how little Thrawn reacted to her words. She sighed, exasperated. Neither man seemed to pay attention to another slow, deliberate roll of her eyes. “Ivant, tell him before he keels over. I believe he wishes to hear it from you.”

Thrawn swallowed, his hand falling away from his face. His expression was serious. “I do,” He said intently, inflection heavy with some mix between seriousness and formality. “I want you to tell me what you have discovered, Eli’van’to.”

“The data suggests,” Eli said, standing to face his fellow captain and indicating the relevant points on the graph from memory, “That the Navigators who are capable of healing will not lose their Sight.”

“Never?” Thrawn asked in that same odd tone.

“That is my belief. Vah’nya and Un’hee say it is something intrinsic that they can tell, in the way they have visions and feel things differently than we do. The data supports that theory.”

“Welcome to Project Compass, Mitth'raw'nuruodo,” Ar’alani said. “I trust what we’ve discussed will remain in the highest confidences, and will not be discussed with your aide.” She inclined her head. “You may go now,” She said dismissively, though there was a spark in her eye as she looked between them. “Both of you.”

They both turned to her, stiffening to attention before stepping back out into the officer’s corridor. Thrawn’s face had gone blank, and so Eli looked up at him in concern. “You okay?” He asked carefully. “I know that was a lot.”

“Mm,” Thrawn hummed. They walked together, side by side. “What Ar’alani said, about you being the catalyst-”

“She’s over exaggerating,” Eli interrupted. “As I have been telling her for some time now, I simply hope I can give them the tools to succeed. Nothing more.”

“On the contrary,” Thrawn said, hand wrapping around Eli’s wrist to stop him from continuing on. He waited until Eli had turned and was looking up at him. Even then, he didn’t pull away. “I believe her,” He said. He searched Eli’s eyes, reveling in how unguarded he was, how natural his confidence presented itself. “I underestimated you. I believed I knew your potential, but I was wrong. You are so much more.” He put his unoccupied hand on Eli’s cheek, his fingertips just barely grazing the soft, rich brown hair at Eli’s temples.

A smaller, darker hand covered the one pressed to Eli’s face as they drew closer together. “You’re saying that because of what I’ve done,” He said softly. “It’s what anyone would have.”

“Not anyone.” His gaze grew more intense, flicked down towards Eli’s lips and back, and couldn’t help meeting the other man’s gentle smile with one to match as he drove the point home. “Only you.”

“Thrawn, I-”

“There you are!” Both Thrawn and Eli flinched back as Ezra approached from behind Thrawn. Eli couldn’t help the small, bashful smirk as Thrawn’s forehead wrinkled in displeasure. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You just kinda left me and I need to know-”

“I will meet you in my quarters shortly. It’s been keyed to recognize biometrics,” Thrawn said, waving him off without even turning to face the Jedi. “Do you not need to meditate?”

“Meditate?” Ezra cocked his head. “No, I’m fine, wh- _oh._ Karabast,” He swore.

Eli smirked, more amused than upset. “I have some things to take care of myself,” He said, “You know,” He stepped back from Thrawn, their fingertips catching as he pulled away from the hand wrapped around his wrist. He wove their fingers together and squeezed gently before pulling away, “We’ll talk soon, okay?”

Thrawn’s eyes fluttered closed as he accepted the temporary defeat. “I will hold you to that, Ivant.”

He leaned forward and whispered in sun-warmed Sy Bisti, “I like it better when you call me Eli, Captain,” Before spinning on his heel and heading off, leaving Thrawn to stare after him.

“Yeah,” Ezra drawled from behind him, now very much aware of his intrusion. “So…”

Thrawn whirled around and gave him a sinister look.

“I am so sorry,” He said, as Thrawn moved past him. “Though,” He tried to catch up with the far taller man’s strides, “To be fair, if you were about to kiss him, you probably should have picked a less open space. In fact,” He tried, though there was not a chance in hell it would help things, “You could say it’s probably for the best that I interrupted…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Ivant and Thrawn seek out an old ally.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Ivant and Thrawn seek out an old ally.

Thrawn looked down at his left hand, clenching it as though he could still feel the phantom of Eli's calloused hand in his from days before. It had been warm, but humans ran warmer than Chiss. That was a biological fact. Chiss were able to sustain far cooler temperatures, though they were capable of handling intense heat as well, their bodies simply more adaptable to extremes.

Beside him in the cockpit of their transport, Ezra hummed, directing his question behind them. “So why, exactly, don’t you want me to come with you guys?” His tone indicated it was nice to speak Basic for a change.

“It’s for your best interest.” The left corner of Eli’s lips lifted in a half-smile, and there was something amused in the gaze he gave Thrawn. “I don’t think my contact would do anything, but,” Deep brown eyes met luminous red.

Thrawn said, “Krennic is dead.”

Eli nodded, and Ezra calmly steered their shuttle into the bay they’d been given by the control tower that overlooked the port. A moment later, Eli mused, “Yes, he knows.”

“And he doesn’t like the Emperor, therefore this should not even be a consideration.”

Ezra looked over his shoulder, seeking clarification. “How many ex-Imps do the Chiss employ, exactly?”

“The question you mean to ask is ‘How many Imps did Thrawn ship off to the Ascendancy,’ and the answer is two.” There was humor in his gaze and his voice as he added, “Be grateful you’re stuck with me."

Thrawn didn’t laugh, but his quiet huff was as good as. For Ezra’s benefit, he said, “I doubt Brierly Ronan would sell him out to the Empire.”

“I told you he still calls me ‘the traitor,’ right?”

Thrawn swiveled the co-pilot’s chair around to face Eli, who stood, leaning casually against the hatch. “Yes,” The Chiss said. “However, as I've said, he doesn’t like the Emperor which should make him an ally.”

“I think I also told you he’s attached to House Chaf?” The look on the human’s face was flat as he argued back. “As in, he's the very publicly recognized liaison to Formbi, who even more publicly despises your brother?”

“Surely Syndic Chaf’orm’bintrano would not appreciate such an indelicate statement, Captain,” Thrawn all but crooned. “Besides, my service to our military negates any benefits I would receive from my house.” 

“Right,” Eli agreed, both sarcastic and reluctant, all at once. He was all too aware of a multitude of situations - not just Thrawn’s own - that might suggest otherwise. “Regardless, Ezra is staying in the ship for his safety, on the off chance, well,” He broke off, admitting, “I don’t think Ronan’s about to try and contact anyone, but consider it a favor to me and keep an eye on the ship, okay?”

Ezra scoffed as he activated the landing gear and methodically toggled the brake and shut down protocols to begin as necessary. Eli might have total control over the Navigators, but Ezra had one final card to play: Ezra was no Navigator, and he answered to Thrawn. He tried not to think about the vast number of close friends who would be very concerned for his mental state at the thought as he said, “No offense, but you’re not my boss.”

“Fine,” Eli said, turning away from them to toggle the door hatch. He didn’t lose that casual-confidence Thrawn now associated with him, even with their mission starting. “I’ll go alone.” He stepped out.

“You will not.” Thrawn looked at Ezra, who sulked with a shift of his lips. “Bridger will stay on the ship,” He called louder, addressing his fellow captain’s retreating back.

“If I didn’t know better,” Ezra murmured slyly, leaning back to cross his legs and prop them up on the dash, much to Thrawn’s displeasure, “I’d think Captain Ivant is just trying to get you alone.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You are insufferable,” The Chiss hissed in reply. It seemed the prospect of being behind bothered him more than he realized.

“But I might be right.” Ezra sang in a buzzing hum.

“We are professionals, on a mission from our Admiral,” Thrawn insisted. “That is not what this is.”

“Riiiiight,” Ezra drawled, “And I’m a Sith Lord.” He met Thrawn’s glower with a dull expression. “Call it what you want, but you better catch up with him before he leaves you behind for real. I’ll keep the ship company like a good aide.”

Thrawn did lengthen his stride, noticing Eli waiting for him in the open doorway of the building that lay on the outskirts of the docking bay. It was newer in design, the architecture of an age after Thrawn had departed on his mission, though it was at least a decade old. The outside of the building had been smoothed by Csilla’s unforgiving climate.

It had been a long time since they’d naturally fallen into step beside each other on a mission without one or the other forced to stand a step behind and to one side or the other, following social etiquette. Something long forgotten, yet still familiar bloomed in Thrawn’s belly. Even at Royal Imperial, all those years ago, they hadn’t truly been on even ground, though it had been nearly impossible to notice. Now, though, he felt it. He had always wondered if a day like this would come.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Eli steered him to a longer ancillary corridor to the left with nothing but a subtle shift of his stance, only looking up at Thrawn at the last second. He smiled briefly. His eyes were clear and bright, like polished riverstone. When his wrist brushed Thrawn’s forearm as they stepped through the doorway, he didn’t react. Neither did Thrawn. But he didn’t step back, content to let their sleeves brush as they continued on their way. 

Had this happened before, in the Empire? Thrawn wondered. He hadn’t been looking, hadn’t considered this a possibility for himself, much less for his then Commander. They’d been what he’d hoped were friends. And regardless of his valiant actions, Thrawn had come to realize that Eli had hoped for the same.

Thrawn wasn’t used to being so hopeful, but he found that he didn’t mind. The concept of discovery was exhilarating. 

Eli’s lips thinned and twisted as they approached another door leading to what sounded like a far more busy place. “This is the main drag,” He informed Thrawn as the hydraulics did their job, and a beautiful mezzanine was revealed. “Usually I wouldn’t indulge Ronan by meeting in such a place, but I like the café.”

His fellow captain completely ignored the beautiful, whimsical art, suspended from the ceiling and done in expansive murals on almost every wall. In fact, Eli paid the art little mind until Thrawn had stopped several paces back, inspecting a crystalline sculpture that seemed to accept the rare glow from the sun that peeked through the skylights overhead and warmed to a kaleidoscope of color in the infrared, subtle and intricate in its execution.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen that look,” Eli said into Thrawn's analysis. He licked his lips, wetting them. “I can’t wait to hear you tell me the artist’s entire life story later.”

Thrawn glanced away from the tangle of elements that comprised the complex, suspended piece. “Oh?” He asked, surprised.

“I know who the artist is. We can test how well your art-sense is now that you’re back where you belong.” The words weren’t playful, more inquisitive, curious.

The Chiss turned back from the artwork and let Eli guide him. “You know the artist?”

“Oh, I do,” He said. “And I’m not telling you the story until you give me your analysis.”

“She came onto you,” Thrawn speculated immediately. His eyes flickered between the piece and Vanto, narrowing as he appraised the human.

“She?” Eli questioned. His eyebrows accentuated the question.

“He?”He frowned. “No. The artist identifies as female. You can tell-”

Eli’s head tipped back and he laughed, honest and unbidden, interrupting Thrawn’s absurdly accurate conclusions. Thrawn’s lips quirked upwards into a tiny, helpless smile.

“Was my speculation correct?” The Chiss couldn't help but ask.

“Hell," Vanto was still laughing. "You don't miss a trick, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. I missed that.” Before Thrawn could think on those words or their meaning, Eli clapped his arm. “C’mon,” He drawled, “I don’t want to listen to Ronan bitch because we’re late.”

-/

The cafe was upscale and incredibly dim by human standards, playing up the Chiss side of superior sight. The mugs, Eli had been told, were a kind that lit up beautifully in the infrared, despite being made of some flimsi-like material so patrons could take their drinks to go. Considering the cautious look Thrawn gave a table’s beverages, that seemed to be about right. 

Ronan, as expected, proceeded to scoff at the sight of Thrawn. “I’d heard you weren’t dead,” He said drolly in accented Cheunh as he stood to greet them. He shook Thrawn’s hand delicately when the Chiss said his name in greeting. Then, “Hello, Traitor.”

Rolling his eyes, Eli shook his fellow ex-Imperial’s hand in greeting. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your charm,” He said in Basic. “I think we can save your horrific attempt at that posh accent. I’d like to get through this without you needin’ to repeat yourself all the time.”

“I’ll have you know my accent is that of House Chaf. The population on Sarvchi speaks many different dialects of standard Cheunh. It isn’t my fault your military education didn’t properly culture you,” Ronan said primly, adjusting his yellow cape. Thrawn looked to Eli instead of speaking, and Ronan’s eyes lit up. “I thought he wasn’t on your good side?”

“Things change.” Eli said, foot nudging Thrawn’s before the Chiss realized the snarl threatening to break through his seemingly blank expression.

“Formbi won’t be thrilled,” Ronan snorted. “We do not want any part in your war.”

“Formbi is, as always, welcome to join us. I have yet to hear this sentiment to my face.”

“You know he has far more important things to do,” Ronan said with a self-important adjustment of his bright yellow cape. It drew Thrawn’s attention, and the syndic’s aide noticed that attention immediately. “It’s an upgrade from the drab one I wore during my time in the empire, don’t you think? Savit bit a hole through it during his little temper tantrum.”

Eli buried his face in his hands. Thrawn shrugged, not nearly as affected as Eli had thought. “It is… yellow,” The Chiss captain settled for commenting.

“That’s one word for it,” Eli muttered into his palm, then straightened and got down to business. “Did you get me the files I needed?”

“You could at least say please,” Ronan rebuked his lack of manners. 

“I’ve got info, I don’t need to beg,” Vanto said, straightfaced.

“Of course,” Ronan said idly, producing a datacard. “The information you requested for your little project. There’s not much. The Empire was keen to make everyone forget what came before it.”

“Anything is something,” Eli commented mildly, pocketing the tiny chip within a hidden compartment in his tunic and producing another. He didn’t set it on the table between them, but held it between his fingertips, even when Ronan reached for it. He looked to Thrawn, calculatingly, then back to Ronan. 

Ronan tapped the table twice, nonchalantly, then picked up his drink from the heavy coaster it rested on. It was a jamming device, the deep blue indicator blinking intermittently to show it was active. His gaze rose back to Eli as he set the drink back down.

Thrawn stroked his chin. “Were you followed?” He asked.

“There is a guard posted nearby. Two of them,” Ronan said. His expression gave away no indication of concern.

“Can you lose them?”

The pale human grinned. “With ease. Formbi is always disappointed when I don’t.”

Eli rolled his eyes, though he didn’t appear entirely irritated. Lower, he intoned, “I could give you this, or we could go to our ship and discuss things in detail.”

Eyes gleaming, Ronan asked, equally soft, “Is that where you’re hiding the Jedi? My sources say he doesn’t stray far from Thrawn.”

Thrawn eyed Ronan coolly, taking Eli’s earlier warning seriously. “Any actions you consider taking against my aide, I suggest you consider carefully.”

“Oh, please,” Ronan waved him off. “I wouldn’t.” He gestured to Eli. “This one’s just paranoid.”

“For good reason,” Eli said, stone-faced. His eyes remained hard, though his eyebrows rose. “What do you want to do?”

Smiling wanly, his aura shifting to become every bit the overworked Syndic’s assistant he was advertised to be, Ronan rose, ripping the datacard from Eli’s fingers with an over-dignified harrumph. Loudly, for effect, he said, “This conversation was incredibly pointless, per usual, with nothing of value for me.” Sliding his gaze between the two captains, ignoring Eli’s hiss of discomfort from the card scraping his fingernails. “You’re welcome for the information, Vanto.” He barely spared Thrawn a glance as he turned, drink and jammer in hand, letting his cape billow over his shoulder like an obnoxious victory flag.

Thrawn waited a few moments, watching as the yellow-clad human took his leave with all the air of pompous importance he remembered, then saw the two Chiss that were very clearly his escort follow at a calculated distance. They were subtle, Thrawn could give them that. “He will find our ship?”

Eli nodded. “Docking info is on the datacard he yanked out of my hand. He should be able to access a terminal somewhere to get what he needs after he dodges the two goons on his tail.”

“This was the plan all along,” Thrawn voiced, after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Why do you think I had Ezra stay with the ship?” Eli’s smile was knowing. He nudged Thrawn with an elbow. “At least this way it should give you enough time to check out the rest of the art on display in the mezzanine before we head back.”

Thrawn nodded, his eyes sharp and eager, though his mouth was held in that typical, serious line. “You should hope that Ezra won’t attack him,” He mused to his fellow captain.

This time, Eli’s grin was alight with amusement as he shrugged, “Well, we’ll find out how well he listened, now won’t we?”

-/

Ronan was sitting at the small table in the shuttle’s living area when Eli and Thrawn made it back.

“I see you two took the scenic route,” He commented. He held up his wrists, which were in binders. Ezra leaned against the wall beside the hatch, at a good angle to see Ronan and also get the drop on any unwanted visitors. The room was entirely empty save for the table and chairs bolted to the floor of the cabin.

“Good work, Bridger. The binders were a nice touch,” Eli said, extending a hand for the tool that would unlock them. 

“Thanks for the heads up, by the way,” Ezra commented dryly. 

It was Thrawn who skirted around the rest of the humans and took a seat to Ronan’s left. “Plans change, Bridger. You must adapt.”

Ezra waved the multitool nonchalantly but gave it up to Vanto with a sigh. He gestured to Ronan. “He said this was always the plan.”

Rubbing his wrists as the thick cuffs were removed, Ronan motioned to his bag and Ezra retrieved it with an exasperated sigh. The jammer from before was produced, as well as a holorecorder. “You understand I will have to record this for Syndic Chaf’orm’bintrano.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eli said. He exchanged a glance with Thrawn, who did not look so at ease. “You really should have brought him. Recording is dicey, especially considering the subject matter.”

“I will not be galavanting off on a galactic tour. I am going directly to Formbi the second this meeting is adjourned. He is nearby.” Reorienting the conversation, Ronan said, “House Chaf wants nothing to do with militaristic enterprises. That I am even here is only because you promised me samples.”

“I did,” Eli said, pulling a small, well-concealed cylinder with a tiny vial from within his tunic. He laid it out on the table. “That’s enough to kill three Chiss,” He said. “If it’s used on one, cardiac arrest is more or less instant. If you spread it out, you’re just slow, but fatal torture.”

Ezra swore and turned away, disappearing into the cockpit. Ronan’s eyes tracked him Almost silently, he murmured, “And the antidote?”

Eli sighed. At this point, it was what it was. Ezra was bound to find out eventually. He spoke soft, but even, and didn’t plan to mince his words even when the Jedi returned. “That’s where house Chaf comes in. We cannot research it ourselves, and House Chaf has both the technology and the defenses to do it without our protection.”

“An interesting proposition.” He furrowed his brow. “Admiral Ar’alani would be willing to concede control like that?”

Thrawn looked between them briefly, then intervened. “It is a necessary concession,” He said. “There is a traitor within our midst.”

“Aboard your ship,” Ronan commented doubtfully. “Surely you can-”

“No,” Eli said. “Within the Aristocra.”

“Who?”

“We believe it is one of the ruling families,” Thrawn said. “We do not yet have-”

“It’s Inrokini,” Eli said.

“We suspect,” Thrawn interjected, looking at Vanto strangely. “We do not yet have-”

“Well,” The other captain leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Regardless, this is a Grysk poison that was not created by Chiss hands. The risks in accidental exposure are too great. We’re concerned about our science team even taking it out of vac-seal to put under a microscope.”

“Syndic Formbi will be pleased you at least consider our research teams above your own,” Ronan said smartly. He frowned, though. “Why do you suspect Inrokini?”

Thrawn said, “The most recent casualties were all supporters of House Inrokini.”

Eli looked at Ronan. “I think they’re going to frame House Chaf, use Formbi’s hate of Thrass as a motive. They’ve already tried to kill Thrawn once.”

Huffing, Ronan had to ask, “So how many bolts did you put into the idiot’s head, really?”

“Only one,” Eli commented. “I don’t miss.”

“Shame they denied the promotion.” He shrugged. “I figured it had to be worse, considering they had Kresh take your ship out from under you. That woman sure knows how to make a reward look like a punishment,” He said sharply.

“The promotion was a sham and you know it,” Vanto said, more to abate Thrawn’s curious look and Ezra’s head, peeking back into the unsealed doorway between cockpit and main cabin. “Back to the point: We need house Chaf’s help.”

Ronan nodded, his usual bluster melting away. “Look, I can take it to Formbi and plead your case. But it’s military. I don’t think he’ll go for it. He barely tolerates the CDF engaging the Grysks as it is.”

“The traitor situation may change his mind,” Thrawn said. “Whomever is getting this poison from the Grysks,” He indicated the innocent-seeming vial of fine, crystalline powder, “Is working with them directly. We believe it is a plot to subjugate one of the houses and take control of our people from the inside out.”

“You mean,” Ronan looked up in surprise. “That is - the Grysks are trying to make us a client species?” He looked between the two men. “Like those-” He shuddered, well aware of the Scratchlings. “Can they do that?”

Eli nodded. “Given enough time and the right access, I believe they can.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s easier to get information and build power if two of the families are fighting to eliminate each other from power. If you were smart, you’d convince him to speak with Thrass and form an alliance.”

“You clearly do not understand the nuances of Chiss politics. That is impossible.”

“I think they could put aside their pride and turn their mutual disdain on a worthy target for a few cycles,” Thrawn interjected. “My brother is petty, that much is true, but he does not have a death wish.”

Ronan nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced, and contemplated. “Like I said, I’ll make your case. Suggest that he speak to Ar’alani, if not the two of you.” He indicated the vial. “Is there more? This is nowhere near enough for an in-depth study.”

“Yes,” Eli said. “I can have some folks run it to a place of your choosing if the syndic agrees.”

“Oh great,” Ronan said. “I do love receiving visits from Commodore Faro.”

“It’s _Commander_ now,” Thrawn offered.

Ronan made a look that clearly said ‘of course it is.’ “How do you continuously convince these beings to give up everything and stay all the way out here?” He asked. “I didn’t think recruitment was part of your duties.” He wasn’t really expecting an answer.

He got one, anyway.

“Hey, he’s a likeable guy,” Ezra quipped from the doorway. “I mean, once you get over wanting to kill him a little.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The enemy lies in wait.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: The enemy lies in wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the heading at all, you'll notice I've updated the chapter count. I'm estimating this story, completed, will be 33 chapters. They're going to be longer, more action-packed, and I might end up having to up to that number if the pacing doesn't feel right, but just to give you an idea... we're close now. It's time to bring this story on home. Updates might be a little further apart, but that's only because there are a lot of details I want to do right, and a whole lot of story that begs to be told. Thanks for reading!

“I was... surprised that you told him what we suspected.”

Thrawn had sat on his considerations for their entire trip back to the _Steadfast_ , almost brooding for how deep he’d been in contemplation. It hadn’t been a terribly long trip, but Eli could tell he’d had questions. And now, for the most part, he could answer them. The human looked comfortable, at ease with Thrawn sitting perpendicular to him in the less formal area of the first officer’s office, a compact sitting area with comfortable-enough chairs.

Eli, who had been reclined in his seat, eyes shut and head tilted up toward the ceiling, cracked his right eye open to regard Thrawn curiously. “After I went through that whole ‘I don’t know if I trust him’ song and dance?”

“That does not translate as well into Cheunh,” Thrawn said, and Eli chuckled. “But yes.”

“Fair question,” The human supposed. “ _I_ trust him well enough. But he’s more or less a politician at this point. Ezra’s not the guy I wanted negotiating and unless I missed something, you’re not exactly-”

“I see,” Thrawn said, and folded his hands over the dash. “You knew which parts of our situation he was privy to. That makes sense.”

“Yeah. To be honest, he knows more than I’d like, but I needed some obscure records that Ronan was my best shot at retrieving.” As an afterthought, he produced the chip and slipped it into his datapad. From the angle Thrawn was at, he could see the Aurebesh that popped up, though the information on the screen was hardly Imperial.

“Clone wars?”

“Something like that,” Eli hummed, scanning the information.

“What could the Separatists tell you?” Thrawn’s interest was only as noticeable as the slightest rise in pitch at the end of his question.

Eli scrolled quickly, looking through several tabs of data before sighing and blanking the screen. “Apparently, nothing I didn’t already know from your forays into that time period way back when. But I wasn’t looking for a history lesson,” He admitted. “Seems like the Empire was real thorough,” He scoffed, handing Thrawn the datapad. That figured.

“This could hardly be called a history lesson,” Thrawn said blandly as he took in the very sparse details about separatist aligned houses and senators. “More than half of these contain less than the basic qualifications to establish a profile.”

“Yeah. It’s worthless.” Eli said, covering his eyes with his hands. “It’s not that important, but I had hoped…”

“Had hoped?” Thrawn inclined his head.

“There was a rumor about Count Dooku, that he had some powers nobody who worked with the Jedi had ever seen.”

“Perhaps,” Thrawn considered, though he did not know for certain. “I was aware that the Separatist leader was a Sith, and he was executed by Anakin Skywalker. The details were never advertised, even in the highest Imperial circles.” He waved a hand, “That isn’t to say he would have different powers that were unique. There are variances even among Jedi, if Bridger is to be believed. Of course you have that data, as well as everything I’ve ever sent back to Ar’alani, I’m sure. There weren’t many Force sensitives amongst the Imperial ranks. At all, even.”

“Yeah,” Eli agreed, crossing his left leg over his right. “You’re not wrong there. Any idea why?”

“My conclusion was that the Emperor felt threatened by the remaining Jedi. It was never advertised, but those who were not successfully indoctrinated by the Inquisitors were… dealt with,” Thrawn finished darkly.

“What about Lord Vader?”

“I did not entertain the notion of asking him. Our brief time together was more than enough to ascertain how little of the man truly remained.”

“I don’t doubt it. Can’t say I’m sorry I missed that mission.”

“I am certainly not,” Thrawn conceded, “Although I have no doubt you would have been capable of working with him, he was not someone I wished you to be exposed to. You would have been used against me.”

There was a sharpness, an intensity to Eli’s gaze that surprised Thrawn as he murmured, “I know.”

-/

A rather unimpressed, yet fiercely concerned Formbi made himself available for a conference with Admiral Ar’alani less than forty-eight hours after they returned to the _Steadfast_. In that time, Thrawn, Eli, and Ezra had laid low, gone through the motions required of their respective positions. Everything about their meeting with Ronan had been very unofficial, despite its very official sanction, thus it had been passed off as an errand for Thrawn and Ezra, with any trace of Vanto’s presence scrubbed from the logs.

Part of Eli’s involvement with Project Compass seemed to involve the captain’s tendency to sequester himself away, Thrawn thought, wondering if the bulk of the crew noticed anything amiss. Certainly the Navigators had noticed Eli’s lack of appearances for what it was. Ezra had said that Un’hee did not appreciate them going dark, but she hadn’t appeared nearly as clingy as he usually saw her. There had been another two Navigators with her at the time, both of whom were around Un’hee’s age and very quiet. Most of what Thrawn had taken from the recap of their brief conversation was that Bridger had been displeased that the other Navigators didn’t trust him the way Un’hee and Vah’nya appeared to.

In retrospect, when Faro sidled up to him on the bridge, not aware of anything amiss, he realized that Eli had the tendency to go dark for long periods of time in the heat of statistical analysis, a trait he’d brought with him to the Ascendency from the Empire. His attention to detail was legendary, and there had been times when only Thrawn himself had been able to raise him on internal comms while he’d been on the verge of a breakthrough. Before, Eli had been apologetic afterwards, aware of his low rank when he drew Faro’s ire.

Now, Faro accepted it as one of her colleague’s quirks. Convenient, Thrawn thought. 

Karyn Faro looked smug when she spoke to Thrawn. “The Syndic is speaking with the Admiral now,” She informed him. “I was asked to take a walk and figured it wouldn’t hurt for you to know.” She spoke in near-silent Basic, switching to Cheunh when he inclined his head. “Vanto was busy, as usual, but said give you any news that wasn’t mission critical.” Her eyes danced with something mischievous. “Sounds like you two are doing better, if I might be so bold...”

His eyes flashed. On the bridge? Certainly not. “Thank you for the intel, Commander,” Thrawn said. “If you wish to gossip, please do not do so on my bridge.”

“With all due respect, what exactly do you think happened on the _Chimaera’s_ bridge, sir?”

Thrawn looked down at her. She stared back, unafraid. He raised an elegant eyebrow. She shrugged, nonplussed. “Do you require anything further, Commander?” He asked, before she could become cocky enough to probe him further.

Smiling, she shook her head. “No, Captain. I’ll go back and see if the Admiral has completed her conference.”

“No need,” Ar’alani said. She turned to the helm. “Set course for Sarvchi.” Her eyes locked onto Thrawn’s. “We’ll make the delivery in person.” 

Trailing along behind her, reaching the bridge as she arrived at the helm, was Un’hee. Her brilliant crimson eyes seemed like they were sharpened into points. She didn’t look at Thrawn, instead turning to look up at Ar’alani. The admiral took her seat in her command chair. “Navigator Un’hee,” She said, placing a hand atop the girl’s head. “You are not-” She whispered something into the Admiral’s ear.

There was something grim in the set of her jaw, even as she inclined her head, dismissing her back to her station. Un’hee looked at Thrawn, then at the Navigator at the helm. She looked at Ar’alani again.

“To your cabin, Navigator. You are not yet on duty.”

Thrawn waited until the tiny Navigator made her way off the bridge, the girl slinking away displeased. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head. “I have my own misgivings about this plan,” Ar’alani admitted quietly. “However if Chaf’orm’bintrano needs to see the red of my eyes to believe the seriousness of this threat, he will see them.”

Faro arrived at Ar’alani’s side as she’d finished speaking. “Admiral,” She acknowledged. “Course is locked in and on pace,” She indicated the star-streaks outside the ship. “Estimated time is six hours at current speed, give or take a few minutes.”

“Excellent,” Ar’alani said. 

“What of the rest of the fleet?” Thrawn inquired.

Ar’alani inclined her head. “I do not anticipate this taking longer than a day, and the fleet is well protected and secure under Senior Captain Kresh’s command.”

“As you say, Admiral.”

When Thrawn looked up, Un’hee was lingering in the doorway to the bridge. Her eyes felt like they bore through him, the semi-darkness of the hallway just outside the bridge. She shook her head when she realized he had met her eyes and turned to the even smaller Navigator that stood in her shadow, taking both her hands and gesturing to Thrawn with a tilt of her head. The girl nodded, looking concerned but resolved. Un’hee pressed the tangle of their hands and smiled bravely before stepping back.

Ar’alani cleared her throat to get Thrawn’s attention, displeased at his distraction. “I did not wish to leave so abruptly,” She murmured to him. He hadn’t realized Faro had left. Her voice did not carry as she continued, “According to Ivant’s calculations, the fleet is due for another ‘shipment’ in approximately thirteen hours.” She looked up at Thrawn, who stood, leaning in, already thinking over her plan. 

“Certainly the Senior Captain can handle it,” Thrawn said.

Ar’alani clenched the arms of her command chair with iron fists. “The shipment was scheduled for the _Steadfast._ ”

“Implying-"

 _"Yes,"_ She hissed, furious. "Just so." There were more traitors on her flagship.

Thrawn pulled back, but Ar'alani's hand reached out, wrapped around his wrist, sharp fingernails scratching his flesh, grip hard enough to bruise if it lingered for long.

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo," She murmured, in the voice she saved for her Navigators. It was meant to be soothing, but all it accomplished was making Thrawn's blood run cold. "Be ready to do what must be done." She remained looking straight ahead, though her fingers gripped him even fighter then, the bones of his wrist creaking at the brink of pain. She was not seeing the present moment, Thrawn knew, though he could not bring himself to take in the faraway sheen in her eyes, all too aware of the horrors they'd faced together in the past, before he'd left on his mission to court the Empire and she'd carried on alone. Horrors that she refused to allow to befall her cherished Navigators.

“Yes, Admiral.” Above all else, Mitth’raw’nuruodo and Ar’alani were warriors. 

-/

Ivant kept the lighting in his office dim, mostly as a balm to the very sensitive Navigators he’d come to be in charge of, as well as by personal preference. The low lights allowed the projections he displayed in the open space to be seen with better clarity, and helped to put off the inevitable headaches he tended to get when staring at display screens for too long. To a human like Faro who had come and gone quickly when he’d been too distracted to entertain, it seemed dark. To a Chiss, it was tolerable. The Empire had only come in shades of sterile white and deepest gray-black. 

In front of him, the remainder of the poison they had found remained sealed and locked in a blast-proof canister that would not open for anyone found not to have the clearance Formbi and Ar’alani had personally agreed on. He was not thrilled about the prospect of having the stuff in his office, safely sealed or not, but he knew that the crew would not come to him unless they were guilty of sympathizing with the enemy.

Which was why Ezra Bridger sat in the chair across from him, kneeling on the durasteel floor like it was comfortable, deep in what Eli assumed was a meditative trance. It was nothing like a Navigator, his abilities. They had tested, early on. Had laid subtle hints, looking for indications that his abilities could facilitate healing. But no, he was only capable of trances that seemed to help restore his mental and physical well-being, something that Eli knew through copious amounts of testing was not nearly as helpful to the Navigators, who were trained from early on to be balanced mentally. 

Bridger claimed to tap into the Force, to sink into it like one soaked in a bath or waded into an ocean. His people, the Jedi, were meant to be guardians of peace. Spiritual shamans rooted and connected with the unseen ribbons of life itself, if the fragments of oral history and scraps of outlawed texts he’d gotten his hands on meant anything. The Force was his compass, the guide he followed.

Navigators were their own compass; conduits through which greater sight could be achieved. Sight that allowed them to safely direct the course of starships at lightspeed or coax into the smallest minutiae of a living being into healing. Sight into pathways that the future could take, one of infinite pathways that they could help breathe into being or cut off entirely. 

The overlap in abilities existed, but mattered little in terms of the overall picture. The Jedi’s Force was not meant to be weaponized despite its many uses. Thrawn had recounted the tale of his and Ezra’s confrontation over Lothal, and the Jedi had confirmed the entire exchange verbatim. Eli was certain he would never forget the words for as long as he drew breath. 

Eventually, but sooner than the Jedi might think, they would present Ezra Bridger with a choice: return home or stay, forever. 

He didn’t need a Navigator’s Sight to know that Ezra would not choose as he had. He understood why, too. Eli’van’to would never truly be a Chiss. He might never have the same rights or privileges. Similarly, Ezra Bridger would always be a Jedi. He could not truly be a Navigator.

Besides, to the Chiss, their Sight was far more than a tool in a peacekeeper’s arsenal. Their alignment was neither light, nor dark, but something in-between. Their ascension and safekeeping was not destined to be a Jedi’s legacy.

“You’re worried,” Ezra breathed into the quiet hum of computers and the dim underlighting of Vanto’s office. “Everything will be fine.”

“Can you predict the future?” Vanto asked, trying and failing to keep the concern out of his voice.

“No,” The Jedi said, frowning. “The future is always in motion.” He shifted and readjusted his legs to sit cross-legged as Eli rounded his desk, leaning against the top of it, opposite of where he’d usually sit. “But you trust Ronan, and even that Formbi guy, whoever he is.”

“We already can’t trust the Aristocra, which means we didn’t really have many other options besides the private sector,” Ivant explained. “Our only saving grace is that House Chaf is a ruling family.” Darkly, he added, “Assuming he doesn’t betray us and go straight to the admiralty. The admiralty will feel that Ar’alani betrayed them by not coming forward with the information.”

Ezra frowned. “Even if she feared one of the Admirals to be compromised?”

“Even if she knows one of them is,” The Captain nodded. “Which, we know one of them must be, but we don’t know who. So now we’re left with a concept you’re familiar with: seeking forgiveness rather than asking permission.”

“Yeah,” The Jedi inclined his head. “So why are you so concerned?”

“It’s Admiral Ar’alani’s career on the line. And all of our lives.” And Project Compass, he thought to himself. If this goes to hell, if she loses credibility, all the data in the universe won’t matter to the council. If she finds herself blamed for anything that happens here, it would be the end of their project, and likely Eli’s life, for how close he was to all of these events. A family like Inrokini with their brutal, unwavering militaristic idealism would find it easy to take advantage in the fallout and topple House Mitth - Thrass’s influence would be reduced heavily for his loyalty to Ar’alani and the CDF as it currently stood. “Things won’t go according to plan,” Ivant said. “There are too many unknowns to plan for.”

“Aren’t there always?” Ezra rose so that he was looking Eli in the eye. “Look, I get it. Things could go wrong. They probably will.” He shrugged. “We’ll adapt. I know it’ll turn out alright.”

“Do you?”

“I have a pretty good feeling,” Ezra said. Despite Ivant’s skeptical look, he added sagely, “Trust in the Force.” Then, younger and more like his age, he added, “Or, y’know, trust me.”

Eli nodded. “Alright, Bridger. I’ll trust you.” He narrowed his gaze. If things really did go as poorly as his gut indicated it might, he might not get another chance. Ronan and the Empire didn’t have any information to give. He did not want Ezra imprinting his beliefs on Thrawn, given their history. Regardless of their relationship, Thrawn would always be a Chiss. He might understand human ethos, but Ezra was not Eli, and his principles as a Jedi would not always allow him to understand what decisions needed to be made - and at what cost. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“When we first questioned you, you mentioned that you had touched the,” Eli searched for a polite word that would hopefully prevent the Jedi from jumping to offense, “A less Jedi-like side of the force.”

The younger man’s eyes turned hard, like precious gemstones. “The Dark Side, Captain. Call it what it is,” He said, and pressed, “What is it you want to know?”

Eli allowed himself to sit atop his desk, legs hanging over the side. He folded his fingers together and laid them just shy of his knees.“You’ve encountered Grysks. You’ve fought alongside Jedi and against Sith. What do you think of the Navigators, after all this time?”

Silence followed the question. Pensively, Ezra looked up into Ivant’s eyes and then closed his own altogether. He seemed to sink back into that trance state as he stood there, reaching out with the Force. The Captain waited patiently for him to return to himself. When Ezra still said nothing, Ivant began to rephrase.

“The Galaxy is more than black and white, Dark and Light, good and evil.” He murmured the next bit even softer. “Jedi and Sith.”

“The Chiss aren’t on the side of the Light,” Ezra mused, making the connection he’d been steered towards.

“I do not believe so,” Eli admitted. “Not entirely. But I do not believe them to be inherently evil like the Grysks, either.” His gaze was contemplative, but serious. “I believe they are both.”

Ezra nodded his head. “The Chiss do not call it the Force. They are not like Sith or Jedi. There are… beings,” Ezra finally said. “Some are inherently attuned to the Force. My master said there were those attuned to the Light, and others attuned to the Dark. But,” Ezra confessed, “Yes. I’ve used the Dark Side. I’m not proud of it, and I hope never to do so again.” He tilted his head, looking at Eli. “If you want me to teach them how to commune with the Dark Side, I won’t.”

“That was never my intention,” Vanto said sternly. “It is only their goodness that will save them. A goodness they’ve forgotten, a sense of self that they have extinguished for sake of their pride.” 

Bridger crossed his arms. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“If things go poorly, you are going to see things you should not see. Things I would ask you never to share with another soul. Things that may make you wonder which side the Navigators are on.”

“Even a Jedi has darkness in them,” Ezra said, suspicious. “Picking the Light... It’s a choice you keep making, you don’t just get to decide once and that’s it.”

Eli considered that. “But again, the Chiss do not see light or dark. The Chiss simply are. You have heard of their culture, their legacy as warriors. They do not perceive the Force like you do, though the ways they wield it may seem familiar to yourself and… others you may have encountered in the past.”

“There are Navigators using the Dark Side?” Ezra’s voice rose. “Captain - Eli - that’s not good. They’re just children, they-”

“Even so,” A solemn voice whispered from behind Ezra. He jerked in surprise, unable to hear, see, or even sense her approach. “A Navigator can be capable of weaponizing the Force in self defense.”

Ezra whirled around. “How?” His dark eyes met Vah’nya’s glowing ones. “Why would you want to-”

“I was terrified,” She said softly, speaking of her own experience as the memory played out in her mind’s eye. “I couldn’t help it. All I knew was that I was to suffer a fate worse than death.” She slipped into the room, head held high. “But like you said,” She gestured toward them with an open palm, “There is good and bad in all of us. Do you believe it is evil to be afraid? To be angry?”

“Well, no, but the Jedi code,” Ezra said, strained, “It kind of specifically warns against emotions ruling you. That isn’t - I don’t believe you or the other Navigators are evil, Vah’nya, but-”

“We are the ones in the middle,” Vah’nya said. “We are warriors, servants to those we protect. That is what it means to be a Navigator, to be a Chiss.” Her eyes glowed in the dimness of the room. “Are we the only ones in the universe who are children of both Light and Dark, not one or the other, but both?”

Understanding flickered across Ezra’s face. He stepped to the side, allowing Vah’nya to join their circle. “There is only one being I know of,” He admitted. Ezra looked between them both. “But you’re not entirely the same. He - Bendu was a bit more… cranky. And chaotic. Thrawn told you about him,” Ezra said. “He was the one on Atollon.”

“He used the Force?” Eli asked, voice rising, sounding surprised. There was an edge to his voice as Vah’nya leaned forward in interest, expectantly. “I’ve heard of sentient creatures - big, small, that doesn’t really matter, but-” Eli didn’t have to go on. 

“He did. He taught my master how to see with the Force after he’d been blinded,” Ezra said softly, then looked up at Eli, running through what he knew of the planet-side battle from his friends. “Oh,” He said, and swallowed. Kanan had trusted his friend, had trusted Bendu to help them defeat the Empire, even though he’d used abilities that weren’t becoming of a Jedi, that weren’t grounded in the Light at all. He didn’t see the significant look Vah’nya and Eli shared around him, preoccupied with his thoughts as he said, “I see what you mean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Thrawn makes a choice.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Thrawn makes a choice.

The trap was worse than they could have imagined.

The bridge of the _Steadfast_ was near-silent, with only the sounds essential tasks being carried out in the background. The crew worked as silently as possible, mindful of the activity being carried out on the command walkway, the way Ar’alani paced back and forth in front of the holo, her anxiety only noticeable for the way she clenched one hand with the other behind her back. Thrawn stood a respectful step back, unflinching. His shoulders were tense but he held himself together.

Senior Captain Khresh looked resigned, not panicked. His fate was already decided, had been before Ivant made his way to the bridge. Vah’nya gravitated to him like a moon orbiting a planet, her fingers wrapping around his elbow as if to keep her from drifting away. “Eli,” She murmured, her worry thinly concealed.

“I know,” Ivant hissed quietly. Careful, with his back against the wall, he reached beneath the back of his tunic, unholstered a blaster and handed it to her. He nudged her left boot with the toe of his right one. She nodded.

The live projection cast into the center of the _Steadfast’s_ bridge was complete. Large and grandiose, as it typically was when one was trying to make a statement. It projected its speaker in larger-than-life dimensions and higher than usual quality.

The most minute details were visible. Most alarming was the skeletal looking, sharply armored fingertips of a gloved Grysk hand where it held Khresh in place securely. That wasn't where Vah'nya was looking, however. Vah'nya knew better. She, like Eli, knew something their enemy did not know they were privy to. That made sense, though, since none of those who had revealed such secrets had gone on to live long enough to tell their allies the tale.

“It is there,” Vah’nya whispered to him.

“I see it,” Ivant confirmed. It was impossible to tell by the armor. The Grysks strived for utter domination and absolute anonymity until their prey were subjugated in totality. And yet, they had their tells. It was impossible to know if Ar’alani had been looking for it (though he suspected she had), or if Thrawn had remembered (probably), but they knew. And it was important.

If a Grysk commander was bold enough to stand aboard one of their capital ships, it meant that they believed that complete and utter submission of the Chiss people was highly possible. They would give no names, not even when they completely culled a civilization. Their darkness was so complete, without exception that differentiating them mattered little amongst individuals. Rank mattered. It spoke of wider access to the overall Hegemony.

_"You have something we want,"_ The commander said, voice harsh and grating in Messe Calf. _"You will relinquish it to us."_

Ar'alani looked at Khresh. He stood ramrod straight, eyes flickering sharply to his left and back in an indication to the negative. The Grysks commander must have noticed because he tightened his grip on the _Compass's_ commanding officer past the point of pain.

"You have not stated your demand," The admiral said, face a cool mask, even as Khresh's face rippled faintly in agony. "What is it that you want?"

The commander remained still; They did not speak. They only looked straight ahead with fathomless black eyes concealed behind an armored mask. Ar'alani followed that gaze - to Thrawn. 

Thrawn met it head on.

_"Twenty nine hours,"_ Their enemy said, not quite laughing but clearly amused at themself for the ultimatum. They did not say what would happen, though there were certainly plenty of possibilities. Senior Captain Khresh shook his head minutely, as if to tell them no, not to consider meeting any demands, or perhaps that it was already too late.

When the feed from the holo faded, the low-lighting of the _Steadfast’s_ bridge felt dimmer than usual, the dark wash of space, cold and expansive seeming to close in on them. The ship’s operations were cut to stealth - life-support and secure comms only - as if that would prevent their enemies from tracking them the second Admiral Ar’alani had realized the _Compass_ had been compromised. Not that it mattered.

Murmurs from the officers coalesced into a dull roar. Disbelief, shock, fury, all of these emotions seemed to crest like an incoming wave, trying to drag the rest of them with it.

Ar’alani did not say anything, did not move at all, her sharp gaze locked with Thrawn. Vah’nya removed her fingers from Eli’s arm, and they shared a quick, slow glance. The enemy was making their move. There was no time to wait, the eldest Navigator knew. She looked to Eli and there was no doubt he was also thinking the same thing.

Pride and vanity were difficult to shake. It was one thing to consider it happening, to prepare for it, on the off chance something occurred. It was another for it to truly happen, for speculations and perceptions to become some warped, new reality. 

Concepts were easier to understand when they were optional, Eli knew. Ar’alani’s pride was wounded, her command well and truly compromised. She did not have the flexibility of perception like the Navigators he helped nurture. She was bound by the Ascendency.

“Eli’van’to,” Ar’alani’s voice was soft.

“That was a commander,” Vanto confirmed. He strode forward, onto the center walkway, the underlighting casting a dim glow upon his face.

“The crew?”

Eli winced, but spoke evenly just the same. “Anyone who doesn’t swear fealty will be killed. We need to assume that’s already happened. They might keep Senior Captain Khresh alive, but I don’t think they’d do so for long.”

“If they murder our people, what motivation do they leave us to acquiesce to their demand?”

“Does it matter?” Thrawn countered.

_“Think,”_ Ar’alani urged. “They are changing the game, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. We must adapt our strategies accordingly.” She looked around the bridge for a long moment, the crew falling silent under her scrutiny. As if coming to a conclusion, she added, “Before I approach the admiralty.”

Thrawn swallowed, fanned his fingers over his chin, stroking once, and then nodded, resolute. "We must at least appear to play their game," He agreed, then turned suddenly to Vah’nya.

The Senior Navigator nodded. “They will save the Navigators for last,” She said solemnly. “The youngest will be easiest to imprint upon, so they may kill the older ones if they put up a fight, but they would rather not waste valuable servants.”

Now was about the time Thrawn would come up with an ingenious, emboldened plan. Eli prepared himself to talk Thrawn down, to try and bridge the gap between Ar’alani’s frustration and Thrawn’s detached assertion that his proposal was the only fitting one. None came. The conversation continued, Thrawn, Vah’nya and Ar’alani speaking in quiet tones, working together to formulate their course of action. 

He looked to Faro, who lingered off to the side. She caught his sideways glance and gravitated toward him silently. Eli could see the frustration in the mild, but deepening lines at the corner of Thrawn’s eyes, the way he clenched his jaw in such a way that only seeing the action would allow one to notice it had happened at all.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Faro said, the sound of her words barely leaving her lips.

“Me too,” Eli said, something dark and foreboding curling tightly in his belly.

-/

_“It is a trap,”_ Un’hee had whispered into the Admiral’s ear. Her voice had trembled, but she managed to keep the tears that seemed to burn at the corners of her eyes at bay. _“We have given them what they want.”_

Ar’alani had shrugged her off. Un’hee didn’t want to understand, even if she knew there was nothing that could have been done by the time she’d confessed what one of her sisters had seen. She didn’t want to see any more of her people die.

Now, she paced. Ezra sat with her, coming to her after they had left Sarvchi. They had unburdened their fleet of all that terrifying poison, and now… this. Ezra had been informed via Thrawn over comms. He had not been invited to their briefing, nor to what Un’hee was sure would be a call to high command.

The young man’s presence was a swirl of chaos and harmony. Peace lingered at the surface, but there was anticipation lying in wait underneath. It was soothing, in a way, to know that he felt the tense electricity that seemed to linger in the air. Perhaps he felt it even deeper than she could. 

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Ezra said into the silence of the room.

Un’hee whirled around on him. “I’m not afraid,” She insisted. She wasn’t afraid. There was nothing to fear, she insisted, but, "We wouldn’t-” 

Ezra’s eyes held no measure of pity, just concern. “I don’t know, Un’hee,” He admitted. “They definitely won’t want the Navigators getting anywhere close to the Grysks, so I think you’ll be just fine.” He smiled at her reassuringly. It wasn’t that he was lying, but she couldn’t help but feel like he was placating her. They both knew the enemy they faced.

“We’re always fine,” Un’hee breathed, eyes going far-away and haunted before she blinked her memories away. “The Grysks will take us alive, if we’re taken. And they’ll-” She shuddered. “I do not wish to go through that again, and I don’t want Eli or Vah’nya or Mitth’raw’nuruodo to be taken by them, either.” She looked away from Ezra and back again, then admitted, “I guess I am afraid.”

Ezra nodded. “That’s okay. I’m a little afraid, too.”

She frowned, seeming to think something over, then climbed onto the couch next to him. The officer’s lounge they’d holed up in was vacant, the rest of the crew occupied with preparations for the possible battle or extraction or rendezvous yet to come. Ezra slung an arm around her gently, careful not to grab onto her bony shoulder or give her the indication she was trapped.

Together, they sat quietly. There were voices in the corridor outside, urgent orders being flung over comms and Chiss moving to prepare for what would lay ahead. Un’hee wasn’t so naive to think that they wouldn’t encounter Grysks. Admiral Ar’alani was a fearless leader. She would do what had to be done. She would do everything to protect her people, and if she couldn’t she would give them a warrior’s death.

Except, Un’hee didn’t want to die. She didn’t even want to see another Grysk for as long as she lived. But more than that, she wanted her sisters and all the other people she cared for to live. The message from Thrawn had informed them that he was what the Grysks were after. That they had a time limit. She glanced at the clock. They had been given twenty-nine hours, and only twenty of them were left. She sighed.

Beside her, Ezra was not meditating. His fingers were warm where they rubbed her shoulder soothingly. He couldn’t be taken by the Grysks, either, she decided. She knew Vah’nya was fierce and brave, and would willingly give herself to them, if it meant saving others. She also knew Ar’alani would never let that happen. Vah’nya was different. _Special_. They said Un’hee was too, but Un’hee was just herself. She was made up of so many broken, scattered pieces. The Grysks had tortured Vah’nya, had tormented her by using Eli who they both cared for so much.

Un’hee wasn’t special for surviving what they’d put her through, she thought to herself. She had been a tool. A slave to the Grysks whims because she had been too young to know better, to understand or resist. She had barely known how to be a Navigator before they’d taken her, and she’d spent two very long years as a husk who did only what they instructed her to. 

Maybe that could be helpful. She could mention it to Eli and if there was to be any risk, it could be to Un’hee and not Vah’nya. Yes, she thought. That felt right. Something in her both despaired and beamed at the prospect.

_“Bridger.”_ Un’hee’s heart sank. They’d come to a decision. They were out of time.

Ezra raised a hand to his comm, toggling it gently. “Yes, Captain?”

Thrawn’s voice was tight. _“Come to my office immediately. I will brief you on the situation.”_

“Yes sir,” He replied, before the comm went dead. He looked down at Un’hee. “Will you be alright?”

Un’hee nodded. “Walk me back to the Navigator’s section on your way?”

“I can do that,” He agreed, letting her rise to her feet before following. He was careful to walk slow enough that she could keep up without rushing. He waited until she’d toggled the door to her room open before stepping back, but a small blue hand latched onto the back of his tunic. He turned back to her, a question in his eyes.

“Have…” She frowned and tried again. “Have you ever known that there was something you had to do,” She began, “Something you didn’t want to do but knew you were the only one who could do it?”

The Jedi looked surprised. He tilted his head. “Yeah,” He said softly. “I have.” Then, with a small smile, he said, “Hopefully you’ll never have to make a choice like that.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Thrawn and Ar’alani will figure this out,” He said. “I’m sure of it.”

Un’hee was sure her smile was reassuring enough because Ezra didn’t say anything else, he just continued to smile at her until he had to turn away to find Thrawn. She let the door slide closed behind her and leaned against it for a moment. Some distant part of her wanted to cry. 

But another part of her, a new part, fire-forged and new, the part that cared so much about more than just herself was resolute. She felt the call to arms like a tingling sensation that started somewhere in the back of her ribcage and along her spine. A sense of purpose and necessity. She let it fill her. Was this how Vah’nya felt?

It didn’t matter how Vah’nya had felt, she realized. Their paths were different. She took a deep breath, held it, then let it go. Vah’nya had been Eli’s guide, had seen him through, had brought him home. 

Un’hee was not meant to navigate Eli through this. She was meant to help Thrawn. And that meant she would be in danger. Whatever plan Admiral Ar’alani came up with, she was almost positive from the tone of his voice that he was displeased. She felt like she understood him, somewhat. He cared so deeply, but he kept it hidden. The Grysks wanted him. They would not stop until they had him, or they were destroyed. He would confront them on his terms and he would minimize collateral damage.

All she had to do was get Thrawn alone and convince him to let her help him with his plans. That couldn’t be too difficult, right?

-/

Thrawn left Admiral Ar’alani’s office and found himself at a crossroads. He needed time to think, unobstructed. The plans had been drafted. Ar’alani was presenting them to the Admiralty, for better or worse. He had no doubt she’d deviate just enough to prevent any issues from potential leaks, but he was no fool.

As it was now, their plan was hardly anything. It would fail. 

The only reason they weren’t outright destroying the ship was because there were four navigators aboard. Four Navigators that Vah’nya had been monitoring closely, that had been rotated between the _Steadfast_ and _Compass_ over the last year and a half. Even if the Admiralty had declared them lost, their project demanded that they at least attempt to recover them, if no one else. But the Admiralty would not do so. It was a capital offense to kill a Navigator, and a high crime to kidnap or torture one.

Their plan all but guaranteed them to lose everything. The Ascendancy wanted negotiations with these “compromised” Chiss. Bureaucratic nonsense that would muddle things, waste time, and ultimately end with the Grysks taking the ship in its entirety at worst, or at best end with the ship being blown to smithereens.

In the light of there only being horrible plans and slightly less horrible but no more salvageable plans, Thrawn allowed his own to take shape in his mind. Everything in this moment revolved around him. _He_ was the prize the Grysks desired. _He_ was a pawn they believed they could play against Palpatine, and Palpatine was an evil surely beyond comprehension, but he had weaknesses now. He was desperate enough to reach out to enemies he surely thought were beneath him, if Thrawn’s own interactions with the Sith had displayed anything. He was selfish enough to make contingencies to secure his own safety in the event of defeat, no doubt. Palpatine was not a warrior. Thrawn needed only to survive long enough to make it to the Empire. From there, he could manage whatever punishment came, and formulate an escape. 

He knew Ezra’s whereabouts, which meant he had a bargaining chip with General Syndulla, if nothing else. It was a risky endeavor, but it was the one most feasible. If he could convince them to exchange the Navigators for his own life, it would be worth it. He had no doubt he Chiss aboard the ship were unknowingly subservient, but believed themselves in control. He would be able to secure the majority of them. Perhaps they would argue to keep one, but the Chiss would not stand to see them harmed. Their ever-patient overseers would indulge them to keep them compliant, Thrawn thought. He could work with that.

As he continued down the corridor, he realized the girl was following him. She was quiet, managing to remain relatively unobtrusive, nearly invisible, but Thrawn paid attention to detail - especially in particularly charged, almost hostile situations like this. At first he believed it to be something small, a titter of anxiety or a short question that she would inject into the natural flow of his present conversation. She did not. He continued his conversation with the lieutenant in front of him, directing the man to prepare a shuttle for their upcoming operation and to inform him immediately upon completion.

When the lieutenant snapped to attention and departed, Thrawn did not immediately turn to regard Un'hee. He looked down at his datapad under the guise of confirming information he had long since memorized and waited for her to slink out of the shadow of one of the ancillary corridors. His patience was rewarded when he stepped forward once, twice, and she moved to follow. Peripherally he saw her eyes slide from one end of the hall to the other, gaze cast wide like a net, checking for anyone who could be watching. There was no one.

Thrawn spoke facing forward, as if addressing the air. His voice carried. "I do not particularly enjoy being followed, nor should you be wandering unattended in a situation such as this."

"I'm sorry, Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo," Un'hee said, and Thrawn turned to her. She did not appear to be in distress of any kind.

His gaze narrowed. "You do not appear repentant," He observed. 

She squirmed under the intensity of his glare. "I wish to help," She admitted, biting her lips. She clenched her fists and looked up at him, eyes burning.

“I will escort you to your quarters,” Thrawn said. “The Navigators were instructed to stay in the Navigator’s section until our maneuvers are complete, unless summoned to the bridge.” He turned around with the intention of similarly spinning her around, but Un’hee looked up at him, feet spaced shoulder width apart, arms crossed defensively. “The admiral’s plans are explicit and non-negotiable.”

“Which is why you asked the hangar to prepare you a shuttle,” She murmured, raising an eyebrow.

“Last I checked, you were not at our briefing, Navigator.”

“Last _I_ checked, hyperspace travel is unsafe in this sector,” She quipped back, calling his bluff. “You need my help.”

The conflict passed through his face so quickly Un’hee nearly missed it. “I will not endanger you to further my plans.”

“Then I suppose it's good that I’m volunteering.” She cocked her head. “You want to protect everyone, right?” His nod was so slight she thought she imagined it, but his eyes reinforced his intent. “So do I.”

Thrawn exhaled. It wasn’t a sigh, but it was close. “I cannot endanger a child,” He argued again and her eyes flashed, perhaps in indignance, as he continued, “Much less a Navigator, be their actions voluntary or not.”

Un’hee sized him up, a strangely potent move despite their distinct difference in size. She was sure not to look away from him, eyes seeming to peer into his like she could see through him. Fiercely, she said “I am a Navigator of the Chiss Ascendency. But I am only one and on that ship there are at least four. Any potential sacrifice on my part is worth it. Besides, if our enemies have-” She closed her eyes, nostrils flaring. She willed herself to respect her fears and move beyond them. “If the _Grysks_ have harmed them, I can be useful.”

While he did not dismiss her outright, he also didn’t relent. She waited, her face still locked in that severe scowl, ready to fight him. “Your gifts are a compelling reason for you to stay,” He said. “I could certainly procure another Navigator who has not shown your particular talents.”

“None who would go willingly. None who trust you completely.”

“And you do?” He looked at her seriously, but she sensed his words were warped to try and convince her not to follow him. “I am not a good man, Un’hee,” He said, shaking his head. “And my fate will not be pleasant. Going with me will most likely be a suicide mission.”

“I don’t think it will,” She said. “You have a plan, do you not?”

He nodded gravely, and Un’hee felt a subtle shift. She had him, she knew it. She pressed on.

“You would not execute a failing plan,” She said. “You would adapt to the situation. You would be more successful with my help.” Then, taking a risk to appeal to his emotions, she added, “It is my duty both as a Navigator and as a warrior to assist you.”

His eyes did soften, just barely, at that. He understood her calling. Good, she thought. “Un’hee,” He tried, a little softer now. “I will not willingly endanger your life. It is not because I believe you incapable, but-”

Un’hee stood her ground, mouth twisting meanly. “I know your plan. If you do not let me come with you, I will tell the Admiral. And Eli,” She said, finally playing her hand. “And they _will_ stop you.” Her chin jutted up. “Then what?”

The look on Thrawn’s face was not kind, nor did it give her any satisfaction. If she wasn’t trying so hard to get him to agree with her, if she didn’t feel so strongly that she _needed_ to come with him, to help him, and her sisters trapped aboard he _Compass_ while protecting those she cared for here, aboard the _Steadfast_ , she would have been afraid. This was not the hidden kindness of the man she knew. This was a man who had very little left to lose, who was making a great gamble.

Who knew, in his heart, that he could not afford for his plan to be thwarted.

“Very well,” He said and his voice made Un’hee want to shiver. “Let us prepare.”

-/

He was exceedingly capable of focusing on the task at hand instead of his emotions. It didn’t stop them from existing, no matter how hard he pushed them down, refusing to acknowledge him. It didn’t change what he had to do, either. It did, however, increase the need for precision and deception, now that his plans had been irrevocably changed.

He hadn’t wanted to include anyone else in his plans. It was another variable that made things messy. Too messy. Regardless of her courage - courage Thrawn couldn’t help but admire for flourishing in one so young - everything in him found the prospect of endangering her life knowingly to be revolting, even if he was relatively confident that they would not murder any of the navigators outright.

In any other situation, he would find a way to lose an unwanted accomplice. He’d done it countless times, leading a helpful (but more often meddling) ‘assistant’ out of the way of the sequence of events. This time, however, he could not. 

Thrawn could not outmaneuver a Navigator with precognition. Un’hee would be accompanying him.

So, in the meantime, because she was clearly on the lookout for him to ‘innocently’ lose her, she’d let herself onto the shuttle he’d had the hangar prepare for him under the guise of highly sensitive, mission critical, and immediately redacted orders from Ar’alani. The censure should obscure things enough within the hangar as to prevent news from reaching back to the Admiral, who was his real obstacle. 

Eli, he wanted to think, if Eli wanted to stop him, he’d be able to handle it. As soon as the thought slipped into the forefront of his mind he inhaled, controlled, and forced the thought back. He clenched his fists. There was no one around to see the lapse in control. 

If Eli intervened, he’d handle it. He’d have to.

This was bigger than Eli or himself, he told himself, slipping into the armory and selecting a number of armaments he knew would be useful. He skipped tiny, compact grenades, not trusting the enemy to leave their quarry free of booby traps. Thrawn knew his happiness was not a priority. It had never been. His life had been driven by duty, always. Eli is - would be - a bright spot, a moment of brilliant color in the otherwise routine canvas of his life, warm reds and oranges amongst a backdrop of black and gray and blue. 

His desires, nor his happiness could ever supersede that of his people’s survival and protection. Thrawn did not allow himself a moment to want it. It would be foolish to do so now, he knew. He could think about it all he liked later, when all the moves were on the board and he was waiting to face his fate.

On his wrist, his comm blinked and he toggled it quietly, stepping around a rack of armor that wouldn’t do him any good in a situation where tactical gear would only give his enemies the indication that he did not plan to surrender as he would lead them to believe.

“Thrawn.”

_“I am supposed to be reporting for my shift in one hour,”_ Un’hee hissed. He was almost surprised by the urgency in her voice. Beneath it was still resolve, not uncertainty. _“We need to leave before anyone seeks me out.”_

His sigh was more of a scoff, but he didn’t argue with her. “Stay where you are. I will join you shortly. Thrawn out.”

He did not carry a pack, but he did pocket several additional blaster cartridges, even going so far as to tuck one in his boot alongside a vibroblade that he’d had since his time in the Empire. He could rig it, if they did not take it from him. With purpose, he slipped out of the armory unseen and made the short trek to the lower hangar. It was the one with more security, and not the one scheduled to receive the ‘shipment’ coordinated by the traitorous enemies lurking aboard their ship.

The sound fervent, angry voices reached him as he approached the waiting vessel. When he’d left her with the shuttle, it had been left dark, a purposeful deception. Now, it was lit up, and he could see the slight shadow of the young Navigator, impatient and red-faced in the infrared.

“We have to go now,” Un’hee said, furious. “Navigator Mi’yaric knows you’re up to something.”

An answering malaise was visible in Thrawn’s face for a fleeting moment, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

Un’hee made a gesture that indicated nothing, but Thrawn understood. Precognition. Sight. The other Navigator. The small one, smaller than Un’hee. She was demure and quiet, but no less talented. She’d been with Un’hee earlier and had been the one who Un’hee relayed the message to Ar’alani for. The shy one who had seen this entire endeavor as the trap it inevitably was.

“She’s going to-”

It didn’t matter who the girl told, he told himself. It was too late to go back now. Thrawn interrupted her sharply. “Is the ship ready?”

Un’hee nodded. The sound of hydraulic locks disengaging behind Thrawn’s back had him sliding his gaze to indicate that she should make herself scarce. She dipped around the corner.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eli bellowed, coming up behind him.

Ar’alani would not believe this to be him ‘doing what must be done,’ Thrawn thought. He doubted he would ever be able to argue the point with her. 

Thrawn closed his eyes and squared his shoulders. Inhaled, exhaled, and turned to face him. “I do not wish to fight you, Eli.”

“I know you don’t,” His fellow captain said. His eyes were as bright as ever, and it hurt Thrawn viscerally to know what he had to do might hurt Eli most of all. “If the plan is no good,” Eli continued, “Let’s figure it out together.” He did not beg, and he did not back down. His approach continued until they were little more than an arms’ length apart.

He was more Chiss than Thrawn had realized. Not nearly as prideful, but the way he spoke indicated he felt himself to be every bit Thrawn’s equal, in rank and intellect. Fiercely, selfishly, he wished he didn’t have to disappoint him. Thrawn was a rational man. 

And it was with this rationality that he recognized this to be the last time he would see Eli Vanto in his life. He always entertained uplifting possibilities, concocted alternate and intricate escape plans, regardless of how unlikely success would be, in spite of all the unknowns. 

It didn’t diminish from the starkness of reality, the reality that the Grysks would likely maim him looking for whatever it was the Emperor wished to possess him for, if not secrets to destroy the shattering empire and subjugate it as well. And if he survived that, the Emperor was a Sith. A man who could send a young, but fully-grown Jedi into a tailspin with only a recording of his voice. Thrawn had outsmarted him for a while, but Palpatine would be distrustful in his desperation to retain the pieces of his crumbling regime. He kept Anakin Skywalker on a leash. Thrawn did not doubt the man incapable of doing the same to one single Chiss, especially one who had been weakened first.

Warrior’s fortune would only carry him so far. Regardless of what so many thought, he was aware of his limitations. His mortality.

“I must do this,” Thrawn admitted. He did not have the heart to lie.

Eli frowned. “Krayt spit,” He swore in his native language.

Thrawn couldn’t help it. He laughed, a single baritone huff of amusement escaping him, tempered with a grief that gripped him like an fist wrapped around his heart. “Eli,” He said, and the fondness bled into that one word, unrestrained.

“Thrawn,” Eli answered, and like always, Thrawn realized, like he had from the first, Eli always made the initial move. He took that half step between them, braced Thrawn’s arms with his hands. They were warm, even through his uniform. “Whatever you’re thinking, tell me. Let me-”

“There’s no time,” He pushed.

“Look, I’ll stop you if I have to,” Vanto said. “I don’t want to, but I will. Don’t be a martyr.”

He’d tried to convince himself it was selfish, yet Eli deserved to know. He deserved to know where he stood, his worth. That Thrawn had had the express privilege of watching him grow from an awkward, kind young man with low expectations into a tenacious, inspiring leader that Thrawn - that his people - would follow, anywhere. That he-

Thrawn broke free of Eli’s grip and took the human’s face in his hands. Eli’s pupils dilated, his eyes deep and dark and bright just the same. “I love you,” Thrawn said, not in Basic or Cheunh, but Sy Bisti. He kissed Eli, hard and relentless, trying to relate everything he would never have the time to say. Eli met the intensity, fingers tangling at the back of his neck, pulling them flush.

When they inevitably pulled away, Thrawn’s hand crept toward his waist and the blaster there, already set to stun. He never looked away from Eli.

“Don’t,” Vanto whispered, catching the motion in his periphery. His tone was understanding, yet unyielding. He always chose to believe the best in Thrawn, even when he knew otherwise. “Whatever you’re thinkin’,” He drawled, “Don’t do it, Thrawn.” 

Thrawn didn’t want this, not really. This was simply the only feasible option, he thought. His duty. His fingers caught on his blaster, his hesitation lasting no more than a second. 

Several things happened, all at once:

Eli reached back for his own weapon, the concealed blaster tucked beneath the back of his tunic, betrayal blooming dark in his eyes. Thrawn heard motion to his right, in his awaiting ship. Eli’s lips parted, the sound of his voice raw, “I-”

The tell-tale crackle of a stunbolt interrupted him, and he went limp, falling backwards, his face rippling in surprise before going slack as he was rendered incapacitated. Thrawn caught him before he hit the ground, shooting an incredulous look up the ramp at a stone-faced Un’hee.

“We have to go,” She reminded him. “I would like to leave before the Admiral sends a squad to stop us.” She holstered her blaster, and Thrawn was certain he would not like the answer about where she’d procured this weapon, much less that she’d felt confident using it on Eli. Still, he had to admit the Navigator was right.

Thrawn dragged Eli a safe distance away from the ship’s thrusters, leaving him sprawled out in a place security holos would see. He was not trying to hide his plans. His only deception was aimed at escaping unhindered.

“I am sorry, Eli,” He whispered, careful as he let the other man's head touch the durasteel plating of the hangar floor. It would never be enough, Thrawn knew. But it would have to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Eli is _pissed_.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Eli is _pissed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I need to remind everyone now that these last few chapters will be violent. I'm not going for shock factor or plan to go into gross detail, but the subject matter may feel a bit gruesome at times. 
> 
> Edit: I've also increased the chapter count to 35 since my last update. Will I go over it? Probably. As of today (7/18) I've got chapter 33 underway and we're still not as far into things as I expected, but I'm trying to let the story tell itself naturally without forcing it to conclude. That means more material for you, it's just going to take me some more time to pull it from my brain.

For a long while, the hum of the small ship's engines had been the only accompaniment to either Chiss's thoughts. Un'hee, head bowed, allowed herself to sink into the trance-like state required of her to safely navigate them toward the _Compass_. She could feel Thrawn beside her all the while, like a greyish presence at the edges of her vision despite her eyes remaining closed as she deftly made the micro-adjustments necessary to keep them from sinking too far into any gravity wells created by planets they streaked by at lightspeed.

She could sense his disquiet. He wasn’t nervous - if he was anyone else, she’d say it was nerves, but she felt like he was more irritated than anything. A nudge of the controls had them avoiding an asteroid cluster in the dark depths of their current system. Thrawn hadn’t noticed. It was impossible for anyone who wasn’t actively in the Navigator’s trance to notice the tiny adjustments necessary to pilot a ship through the Unknown Regions.

Except, that wasn’t quite right. Lately Un’hee had noticed herself more aware of the subtle adjustments when she wasn’t at the helm, like her mind had unfurled like a flower, extending out toward her surroundings. Ever since she’d healed Thrawn, she’d been different somehow. The same - it wasn’t like she was a different person, but using her Sight felt second nature. She felt like she was capable of steering the ship without needing the deep pool she’d been trained to wade in when steering the ships of the Ascendancy.

Her skin prickled a little, charged and alert. She remained calm both inside and out, despite her fear. She knew what was coming. Thrawn’s frustration, afterall, was because she’d forced herself on his plans. She was a variable he hadn’t planned for. Thus, she could feel the swirling pressure of his thoughts, their cool, silky texture as he tried to determine the best course of action to secure her safety while still achieving his goals.

It was why she volunteered. They would both be taken captive. Volunteering, foisting herself upon him absolved him of blame within the Ascendancy. Or, at least, it would, once she explained herself. Ultimately, she knew that didn’t change his perspective. He would bear any harm that befell her as a badge of his own failure. And unfortunately, there was little chance of either of them escaping unscathed. She did not doubt they would be rescued. She was too valuable to the Ascendancy - she and her rare abilities. She would exploit herself in this way, if only to make sure she was able to keep both Thrawn and their remaining allies safe.

When he inevitably toggled the comms sometime later - time seemed to lose meaning in the depths of hyperspace travel, though a quick reach with her Sight told her they were a little more than two hours away - Un’hee allowed herself to devote some of her energy to listening even as she continued to guide the ship.

It was a Chiss that answered Thrawn’s hail. A Chiss that Un’hee didn’t recognize by voice. If they were a member of the _Compass’s_ crew, they were new. She nudged the controls to the right, careful to avoid a planet’s field of gravity, then back to the left, feeling an obstruction in her path that needed to be shaken loose. Thrawn spoke slowly, confidently but without pride or arrogance.

He offered himself as a prize. His surrender in exchange for the Navigators, alive and unharmed. It was not much of a trade, but it was all he was willing to offer.

“Your surrender will be unconditional,” The Chiss said. Un’hee dared to open her eyes even as she continued to divert her mind’s eye to her task of piloting the ship. Looking up through her lashes, she saw the pale blue holo of the Chiss speaking with Mitth’raw’nuruodo. The holo was not colorized, so she wasn’t able to tell for sure, but the uniform he wore looked strange. Pale. Not the deep space gray-black color of the CDF. “Or we will execute those aboard the ship, beginning with the Navigators.”

“You are easily manipulated by your overseers that you would commit the highest crime against your people?” Thrawn’s voice almost seemed small, but no, she realized, it was rage. Violent and turbulent and sealed away so firmly as not to be allowed to escape, Thrawn’s rage made the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

This wasn’t the way to negotiate with them, she thought, and refused to think about it too hard, trusting her intuition as she made arrangements to intervene.

“Prepare for real-space reversion,” She murmured, lifting her head entirely and allowing him just enough time to look at her from the pilot’s chair in a cross between concern and fury before the stars stuttered to a stop. The ship’s drop out of hyperspace was rather calm, all things considered.

She regarded the Chiss projected above the center console with an unimpressed look. “I wish to speak to your superior,” She said, ignoring Thrawn’s twitch of disapproval. She knew he did not like it when others inserted themselves in his meticulous plans, but this was an enemy that Un'hee knew she understood more intimately than he did. She could sway them.

 _“You will speak to me,”_ The Chiss replied stoically.

Un’hee pursed her lips, closed her eyes and clenched her fists tight enough to draw blood. When she opened them again, Thrawn was watching her with a guarded expression, no doubt aware of her discomfort. She looked at their enemy and spoke once more. The sounds that came out were not Cheunh or Meese Calf.

Thrawn didn’t know what it meant. She could see that on his face.

Then, suddenly, an armored arm threw the Chiss on the other end of the comms device out of range of the projector with a violent swing. _“To whom do I speak?”_ The Grysk asked in Meese Calf, voice low and dangerous. He did not respond in kind.

Un’hee bowed her head in servitude. “I am called Un’hee,” She responded in Meese Calf this time. “I served your Hegemony before being retrieved by the Chiss Ascendancy.” The Navigator chose her words carefully.

 _“I will not negotiate with your Defense Fleet,”_ The Grysk said. _“You will surrender.”_

“Admiral Ar’alani of the Defense Fleet has not authorized our actions,” She said. “She does not know of our plans. The Ascendancy was unwilling to part with Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” She added, “Thus we were forced to act.”

To Thrawn, the Grysk tittered scathingly, _“Is this true?”_

Thrawn nodded once, sharply enough to indicate that it was in fact the truth. 

_“I do not trust you,”_ They responded.

“You have the means to communicate with them,” Un’hee pressed. “Ask them.”

Thrawn reached out, pushing down on her shoulder to stop her from speaking. “You wish to send me to the Galactic Empire in exchange for the Emperor’s favor in the future,” He said. “I am proof that Emperor Palpatine does not value his allies.”

The Grysk growled, _“You know nothing of Palpatine.”_ It stroked its armored face with long, skeletal fingers. _“And you underestimate your value,”_ He said. _“You are a gift,”_ He sneered, _“Nothing more.”_ They studied Thrawn through the projection. _“Though I appreciate your selection of Navigator. The young one will reprise her role as a hireling with less effort than it would require to train a new one.”_

“Our people will not stand for this,” Un’hee declared, shaking Thrawn’s hand from her shoulder. “They will not be enslaved by your will.”

 _“They already have been. You will remember your place soon enough.”_ The Grysk gestured to someone outside of the scope of the projection, when suddenly the projection itself changed to show the expanse of the room. _“Since you seem so unconvinced,”_ The Grysks’s voice held something like amusement. Glee.

Thrawn hissed and swore. “Do not look,” He murmured to her, feeling Un’hee’s entire being freeze with the knowledge of what would happen thanks to her Sight.

Shaking her head even as tears leaked from her eyes, she kept her gaze level with the display of the scene before her. Even as a Chiss - a different one, still wearing that strange, too-pale uniform - dragged a Navigator to stand before the Grysk. “I have to,” She said, even as her lower lip wobbled and the young Navigator on the display was murdered brutally, screaming and crying until life fled her entirely. Her execution was committed by a Chiss.

 _“It is a high crime for a Chiss to kill a Navigator.”_ The Grysk cast the murdered Navigator’s body to the side without concern. _“And yet you are tools to your Ascendancy, the same as you once were to our Hegemony.”_

“We are not tools,” She snarled. “We are warriors.” There was a bright spark in Un’hee’s eyes. To Thrawn’s surprise, her anger far outweighed her fear. “If you continue to kill my sisters, the CDF forces will annihilate the warship _Compass,_ ” She said vehemently. “Whether we are aboard or not.”

 _“We shall see,”_ The Grysk said. _“Consider this your incentive to arrive promptly,”_ They barked. _“Perhaps it persuade me to be merciful towards the rest of your… ‘sisters.’”_ The last word was said with such contempt that it made the shuttle craft’s speakers crackle.

“They were not the commander,” Thrawn said slowly, once the communications device ceased transmitting and the connection was severed on their enemy’s end. 

Un’hee swallowed hard and nodded. “There is more than one aboard,” She said shakily. “They must not have the number of allies required aboard the Compass to hold the ship.”

Thrawn considered that for a moment. “Do you believe they will execute those who refuse to surrender?”

“Not all of them,” She supposed. “But many of them will die. They will use those deaths to inspire hopelessness. And those who are already their clients-”

“Which?” Turning to her, Thrawn eyed her warily. “Explain.”

“Their uniforms were different. More like coveralls. It is hard to tell the difference over the holo but I remember the type. They aren’t the same between client species, but they are duller than the color of cour uniforms. I think those were what the Chiss we spoke to was wearing.”

“It will not be universal,” He speculated cautiously. “But it is worth our consideration.” Then, he returned his hand to her shoulder, patting it gently. “You must continue our course,” He urged her. “I do not wish to ask it of you,” He said, his words infused with honesty, “But there are lives at stake.”

Un’hee nodded. “I understand the gravity of our situation now, Captain Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” She whispered, steeling herself. “I will not serve another Grysk, nor any of their clients,” She uttered vehemently, clenching her fists. “They will have to kill me, and I will not give in without a fight.”

-/

Karyn Faro was mostly trained in Imperial protocol and procedure, but some skills were more or less universal - like this one, she thought, locked in with the bridge crew, openly interviewing the officers presently in command of the _Steadfast_. Ar’alani was an impressive - and arguably frightening - commanding officer when furious, assuming she allowed it to show. She was far more terrifying when she did not.

The sensor officer was not impressed with her pointed personal questions or the level of disbelief she let drip into her tone. No matter. She was hardly an interrogator, the Empire had had ISB for that, but she could hold her own, and she’d gone toe-to-toe with Thrawn. He was far more frightening than any of the officers aboard Aralani’s bridge.

There was, of course, a method to the madness. She’d retained the information after only a cursory glance on her datapad, deleting the message she’d received moments before the Admiral had been called to the Hangar. 

She wasn’t particularly keen on asking officers whom they spent their spare time with, or what familial obligations - off the records, of course - each officer upheld, be it due to some social obligation or simply political beliefs. And, worse of all, that it was a lowly human questioning them, well - Faro spoke more than enough Cheunh to know just what they thought of her. Frankly, she just didn’t care. 

It was the younger officers that gave her the hardest time. The sensor officer she’d just finished up with, the petty officer overseeing two weapons terminals that were running diagnostics just in case they’d be needed later. The older officers - the first officers and mid-commanders were far calmer, understanding of the questioning. 

Faro went lighter on them, per Ar’alani’s instructions. Of course, they had far more to say, speculations and fingers to point. Such was their way. Pride, arrogance, a flair for the dramatic… she laughed at herself, remembering the days when she assumed Thrawn was a representative of his people. He was just as much of an outsider as she was.

She’d made it a point to give away little, though she worded her commentary to the senior staff with specific phrasing, allowing keen ears to monitor who spoke to whom, and which stories would get back to her. None of the staff made it a point to speak to her, or actively sought her out.

Except one.

“Commander Faro,” Mid-Commander Tanik, who oversaw the bridge with Eli and Thrawn both away from the command walk, greeted her as she paused to key a few notes on her datapad.

“Mid-Commander Tanik,” She returned, stiffening ever-so-slightly to indicate that she respected him as the senior officer. She doubted he had more experience than she did, but she’d been instructed to get along with the crew in all things, whenever possible. Ar’alani might find her perspective… amusing, but right now she was gathering intel.

From her experience, Faro had a feeling she was onto something. She also had a feeling that Ar’alani had positioned her to spring the trap. Tanik did not have an excellent facade, but he did have a wide, disarming smile. She nodded curtly in response to it.

“Have your interviews borne any suspicions?” He asked her.

“Some,” She admitted thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, I cannot speak to them. The admiral was very specific about not speaking to anyone regarding the results of the questioning, despite the need for them to occur in such an open space.”

Tanik hummed thoughtfully. “Well, the Admiral would not lead us astray,” He said, and looked around the bridge, gaze sweeping over his subordinates with a sternness she was almost surprised to see. He shrugged, reverting to his usual passive demeanor, lips tilted upwards ever-so-slightly in what was nearly a smile. “If there is anything I can do, or any other questions you need to ask, just let me know, yes?”

“I appreciate it, Mid-Commander,” While blunt and businesslike, Faro spared a glance around, checking to make sure no one was obviously listening to her, then added, “I don’t believe I’ll have any more questions for you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “The Admiral believes it is one of the sensor or weapons officers. She knows her senior staff would never betray her.”

Tanik tutted, sounding almost like a disappointed parent. His voice held an edge of placation, as if trying to soothe some invisible hurt he believed the human to have. “I shall keep my eyes and ears open to what is happening around me. Just let me know when you go to give your report.

“Yes, Sir,” Faro said, then waved with one hand in the direction of the helm. “I appreciate your assistance.”

She felt bad for the weapons officer she was about to pressure - and likely embarrass. However, it was better that she do this than allow the Mid-Commander to gain any sort of insight about just how much Ar’alani and Faro were onto him.

After all, he was a good actor when he knew he was being watched. What he did not know was that Ar’alani had caught a flash of unmistakable glee during their enemy’s missive earlier, reflected opaquely in the mirrored transparisteel of the ship’s windows. Faro was content to look like an idiot for now.

Both Ar’alani and Faro would enjoy watching his downfall.

-/

Upon awakening, Eli was granted exactly ninety-six seconds of carrying on in his native tongue, a language Admiral Ar’alani understood very little of. Not that translation was necessary, some things transcended language. The set of his jaw, the way his lips twisted over his teeth in a snarl, how his chest heaved for breath because his rage seemed to punch it all from his lungs, these were all universal indicators of his mood, of the heat behind his words.

Beside the cot Eli'van'to was now sitting up on and standing to Ar’alani’s right was Vah'nya. She kept her mouth in a straight line, but her eyes danced, finding some of this amusing. To Ar'alani's left was the young Jedi, and his face and ears glowed like a beacon. Perhaps her Senior Navigator was correct, no doubt Ivant had some colorful words to describe his feelings about things. Ar'alani certainly didn't regret her lack of fluency, but she couldn't help but wonder about the specifics.

When she held up a hand, Ivant cut himself off. He went entirely silent, closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath. Centered when he opened them again, he spoke in Cheunh. "Apologies, Admiral," He began, and she heard the anger coiled just beneath the surface barely contained,"It's just," He exhaled, and exclaimed, more than a little surprised and definitely furious, "That - he - _he shot me_."

"It was a stun bolt," Vah'nya said dubiously, as if he were being overly dramatic. Perhaps his rambling had been, but Ar'alani was content to give him the benefit of the doubt this time. "It's not like you have been harmed. I don't think he has it in him to actually hurt you, at least, not physically."

Eli opened his mouth, no doubt to press something else just as emotional, but Ar'alani interrupted. "Mitth'raw'nuruodo was not the one to stun you. I reviewed the security holos of the incident. It was Navigator Un'hee."

“Un’hee?” The startled yelp from Eli would have been comical in other circumstances, but the lack of denial was the only confirmation Eli was given. The human smoothed a hand down his face and sighed. "They've gone off on their own, haven't they?"

"Yes." Ar'alani was frowning. "I have questioned Navigator Mi'yaric about the events leading up to this. She believes that Un'hee pressured Mitth'raw'nuruodo. He did not coerce her." Something sharpened in the elder Chiss's expression. "He is very lucky I am inclined to believe that, given her actions towards you, lest he inspire my ire in addition to yours.” She retained eye-contact for another two seconds, just enough to let him know that she’d seen what had happened in the hangar. She knew all that happened aboard her ship. He didn’t flinch away, even though his anger had receded beneath his impassive command facade. Good, the admiral thought. There would be time for his arguably well-deserved fury later. For now, they had work to do. 

At that, the Jedi turned his head, looking up to her as Eli swung his legs over the cot, satisfied that he did not feel any of the residual tingling or vertigo associated with being stunned. "Admiral?" The young man asked, wincing at her reproach for her first officer gone rogue. 

"I am accustomed to Mitth'raw'nuruodo making a mess of our plans," She said, her heavy gaze sliding to the left to regard him. "Make no mistake," She added, "He is a fool and he _will_ be dealt with." She nodded to Eli. "But we have other matters to attend to. Things have changed."

Before the admiral could ask if he was fit to leave, Ivant was on his feet, steady. He turned to Vah'nya. "Do you have their trajectory?"

"Trackers were disabled on the shuttle."

"And on Thrawn?"

Vah'nya smirked. "I cannot believe you got away with that, but yes. The micro-tracker will work so long as he's in the shuttle. If they meet up with another ship, it will not communicate wirelessly with its interface unless it's the _Compass_.

Ezra looked horrified. “You think she’d actually take him there? She’s terrified of the Grysks and she wouldn’t want Thrawn to just give himself up to them,” He pressed.

Eli frowned, then looked to Vah’nya. “What do you think?”

The Senior Navigator shrugged, almost imperceptibly as she replied. “I was surprised she volunteered herself.”

Eli shook his head. “I’m not. She’s far braver than she lets on. She just doesn’t realize it.”

“Even so, Navigator Mi’yaric’s recount of their conversation was concerning. When we spoke to Ezra,” Vah’nya added, nodding in the Jedi’s direction. “He indicated that Un’hee was not acting strangely, but in hindsight he was able to recognize her words as suggesting she was preparing to do something incredibly dangerous that she felt ‘only she could do.’ I would hope she does not deviate from the plan, but,” She exhaled softly. “I think it may be a possibility.”

A grim smile coveted Ivant’s features. “If there is one Grysk aboard the _Compass_ , they’ll have a warship nearby. Deviation probably won’t be possible, but...”

Ar’alani regarded Eli with sharp skepticism. “You have a plan?”

He exhaled slowly, the motion of his diaphragm controlled. Ar’alani could see him organizing his thoughts, fitting them together into something more cohesive. “I might.”

A smirk crossed her features, like a predator scenting prey. “That makes two of us,” She mused. “Come. Let us see what opportunity we can make from our comrades’ poor decisions.”

-/

Ezra stood one step behind Admiral Ar’alani and to her right. Commander Faro waited for them at the blast doors that opened up to the bridge. They both seemed strangely calm. He had been instructed to go with the admiral following their impromptu strategy meeting and that he’d know what he’d be needed for. It didn’t take an idiot to know that meant that Ezra would be expected to use the Force in some capacity. 

Which was fine, he didn’t mind, but nobody was telling him what was going on. If there was someone who was a danger to the crew, a little warning - or even a direction in which to focus his attention - would be nice. The Force usually gave him a nudge in the right direction, but he was far from all-knowing. 

The Chiss were like that. They spoke in these riddles that only made Ezra have more questions, until the very last second when he realized what had been so infuriatingly obvious to them the whole time. Usually Thrawn took a teaching approach, guiding Ezra to make the connections necessary. He noticed that Captain Ivant had done the same for him at least once, as well.

But Ezra didn't dare question Admiral Ar'alani at this point. Her shoulders were tight. He considered Faro. She stood in parade rest, a gentle, moderately disinterested look upon her face that reminded him that she had most definitely been an imperial.

"Which officer," Ar'alani began, not needing to complete her question before Faro was indicating an officer over by one of the weapons consoles. Said officer was tense, well aware of the eyes on him, but Ezra sensed only a flicker of nervousness. He didn't think the officer was guilty of anything besides the lack of enjoyment of all the negative attention he was receiving.

Ar'alani didn't even pause in her sedate walk onto the bridge, continuing down into the crew pit and approaching the officer's station. By the looks of it, Ezra realized he was a lieutenant, and probably a newly promoted one if the way he trembled under the admiral’s gaze was any indication. 

The weapons officer straightened to attention, rising hastily from his seat in front of his console. Ar’alani’s eyebrow went up, an action Ezra could only see via her reflection in the gleaming viewport to their left, looking out amongst the stars. She did not say anything, only looked at the officer for a long, inscrutable moment.

“Treason is unbecoming of you,” Ar’alani said, almost gently. There was an undercurrent to her voice, indicative of looming danger. Whatever happened now would ultimately change the tone of this entire encounter. Ezra tensed, waiting in anticipation for when he would be needed. He had no doubt it would be soon.

The entire bridge seemed to be holding its breath, just waiting, waiting for the lieutenant paralyzed under the weight of his admiral's gaze to buckle under the strain, for the admiral to put him in his place, to finish her accusation and have Faro usher him away. 

None of that happened, though. Instead, Ar'alani's eyes shifted up toward the command walk, disregarding the terrified officer entirely.

"Mid Commander Tanik," Ar'alani said, sounding almost disinterested.

Tanik was not a large man, of average build for a Chiss. Tall and lean, but not wiry. He swallowed hard, no doubt feeling the strange tension, before his eyes focused and he stood at attention, ready to serve. "Yes, Admiral?"

"I said," She annunciated, turning now to face him directly, "'Treason is unbecoming of you.'"

Ezra saw what was happening in his mind's eye with stark clarity, the Force whispering in his ear, alerting him to the imminent danger about to present itself with seconds to spare. Seconds that allowed him the intervention necessary to reclaim the vial in Tanik's hands, the one he had been about to throw at his admiral hard enough to break and that Ezra caught with an invisible hand. He did not need to see the vial to know what it was.

Still with that unimpressed air to her, Ar’alani retrieved the vial where it hovered in front of her by Ezra’s intervention. No one moved, but Ezra felt the shock of fear, the electricity of it as it coursed through the rest of the bridge crew. They all knew what it was, too.

“Do you know why our enemies carry poison like this, why they kill themselves before they can be detained and questioned?” The crooning tone to her voice gave Ezra gooseflesh, made his hair stand on end a sort of sympathetic terror. Tanik made an abrupt about-face and headed toward the door.

Faro stood in front of him, her face slack and stoic, but her eyes alight with fury akin to her admiral’s. Tanik made to shove past her but she dropped quickly, tripping the Chiss with her lower center of gravity and sending him sprawling onto the durasteel walkway. Her show of strength as she hoisted him back up to his feet, his arms twisted painfully behind his back was impressive.

And yet, Faro whirled him around to face Admiral Ar’alani, forcing him to look up into her ruthless eyes. “Our enemies do not wish for their secrets to escape them,” She said, her voice as cold as the vacuum of space. “Your selfishness will be their undoing.”

“I will not tell you anything,” Tanik said.

“No?” She supposed, and a grim smile curved her lips. “I disagree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Ar'alani and Vah'nya conduct an interrogation.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Ar'alani and Vah'nya conduct an interrogation.

Vah’nya regarded Eli with a look suffused with warmth, openly displaying her affection. The way one regarded a close friend, perhaps even one they regarded as a brother with whom their association transcended blood relation. Her lips quirked slightly, and she smiled at him with a hint of sadness in her face.

“He kissed you,” She said. “Did he-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Said Eli.

He looked like a Chiss, in Vah’nya’s estimation. It was in how straight his back was, the way his shoulders rounded down not in an overly relaxed gesture, but one that indicated he understood his place, that he was prepared but not coiled so tightly that he could not adapt. He was strong. Far stronger than she - than any Chiss - had expected him to be. She could not help but be impressed by him, by his strength of will, of his convictions, but most of all, of his heart. It could not be easy to be a human among Chiss, and even less so to come to terms with being a human who had feelings for one, considering...

The true events leading to Thrawn’s departure were known only by the human beside her. Even so, Vah’nya knew she saw more than others would have in the silent security holo she’d watched with Admiral Ar’alani. Others would have suspected it to be a ploy, a way to catch Eli off guard. Others did not truly know Mitth’raw’nuruodo.

Thrawn was hardly a good actor when subtle, gentle emotions were concerned. He knew how to project anger and rage, how to tap into the wellspring of his feelings to pluck out strands of the brightest, sharpest ones in order to subdue or coerce. There was no act, and Eli knew it, just like Vah’nya, just like Ar’alani. She had been surprised to see the admiral swear and rap her fist against the console as she called Thrawn a rather impressive slur indicating him to be an idiot.

“I know,” Vah’nya said, shrugging off her uniform tunic in favor of a deep black combat uniform that had been procured from the quartermaster. It was so dark it nearly matched the color of her hair. Despite being dressed in both an undershirt and long leggings beneath her usual attire, Eli turned away politely, shucking both undershirt and tunic for his own tactical gear. “We’ll rescue him,” She said reassuringly. “I am confident we will.”

“Un’hee is our primary objective,” Eli reminded her, resolve echoing off the walls of the small room as he affixed a belt to his waist before moving on to secure the holster attached to it around his thigh. “Not Thrawn.”

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo is vital to our plans, as well,” She pressed. He hid his hurt behind his duty, but she wasn’t willing to ignore that they both would do what needed to be done. “We need him, and you know it. We-”

“Of course,” Interrupted Eli. “However-”

Vah’nya continued speaking as if he’d never said anything at all. “You’ve waited long enough. Our plans are in motion, for better or worse.” Then she smirked a little, teasing, “Besides, now you can show him just how much of a warrior you are,” She drawled a little. “Would he find such a display…” She trailed off and let her expression go slack as she said, _“Enticing?”_ In a silky-tone that was an impeccable - albeit more soprano - rendition of Thrawn. Unable to maintain his completely expressionless expression, Vah'nya waggled her eyebrows mock-seductively.

That won her a little laugh. “Let’s see where the mission takes us,” Mused Eli, though his lips curled upwards just a tick. “We still have a bit of work to do before we’re rescuing anyone and-” He shook his head, still unwilling to talk about what had obviously been rather pivotal interaction. Neither Ar’alani or Vah'nya were stupid: they might not know the specifics from grainy holo-footage, but they had an idea of just what had happened. Frankly, it hadn’t come as a surprise. Perhaps that’s what hurt Eli a little more than usual. As if sensing her shift in thinking, the human nudged her with his shoulder as he passed, still taking care to look away. “Get a move on.”

Vah’nya hummed. “Fine,” She said, and then willed herself to be serious as she zipped up her dark trousers and fitted the utility belt around her waist. The attire made her look more slender than she was, but in a way that indicated severity, not fragility. Her hair was already pulled back from her face in tight braids that wound around each other at the base of her skull. “Let’s get this over with.” She’d try to get more out of him the next time they had a minute. Maybe Ezra could help, she considered, before forcing all thoughts unrelated to their upcoming task aside.

They exited the ready room with matching expressions, lips thinned, eyes guarded and headed not toward Ar’alani’s office, but rather to the deepest recesses of the ship, beyond the massive cargo bay and entry-point to the hangar. Those they passed looked skeptical, concerned, but did not comment on their choice of gear. The ship was preparing for battle, and all hands were needed. Time was not a luxury any of them could afford. It was estimated that they had approximately two hours until they would drop out of hyperspace and be in the same region as their rogue ship, the anticipated transport, and whatever Grysk forces were counting on their arrival. 

“Our best chance to keep on target is to crack him in thirty minutes,” Ivant said as they both subjected their irises to scanning. The scanner-tech’s beep of approval permitted them entry to the cell block and interrogation room containing their prisoner. “Remember your training,” He urged. “You can do this.”

Vah’nya nodded, fingers rippling. 

Faro and Ar’alani waited for them just outside the mirrored glass that allowed them to see into the interrogation room, but did not allow their prisoner to see out. And inside, newly disgraced and former Mid Commander Tanik sat stone-faced and restrained at both wrists and ankles with wide cuffs. Someone had ripped the patch representing the Aristocra from his uniform. 

“Are you prepared to begin?” Ar’alani asked them.

Both Ivant and Vah’nya inclined their heads to her, though neither stiffened to attention. Vah’nya considered Ar’alani for a moment. “You should take point, Admiral.”

“As you wish,” She relented, before turning to Ivant. “Will you be joining us?”

“I’ll wait outside with Faro.” He answered, “If that is acceptable with you, of course. I think that my presence would distract more than assist,” He thought aloud. “It has to be a Chiss.”

“I’ll say. I already questioned him,” Faro said. “His opinions were noted.”

Ar’alani opened the door to the interrogation room. “This is your chance to speak,” She insisted to the captive Tanik as she let herself inside.

“And if I do not?” Tanik’s voice was muffled as the door shut behind Vah’nya. Both women stood before the table Tanik was bolted to at the wrists. _“The Aristocra has laws about the treatment of military prisoners,”_ He challenged. _“The Families will not tolerate torture,”_ He said, and this statement was transmitted through the small speaker just beneath the mirrored transparisteel.

Faro rubbed her arms against the sudden chill she felt in the air as Ar’alani regarded Vah’nya with a curt nod. “What the hell is going on, Vanto?” Faro hissed.

“Don’t worry about it,” He said, never taking his eyes off of Vah’nya even as he felt Faro’s eyes trying to drill into the side of his head. “Where’s Bridger?”

“He’s in Ar’alani’s office.”

“Comm him to come down here.” Vanto turned to regard Faro with a serious expression. “Once Tanik caves, we’re going straight to the hangar,’” He said. “There’s no time for a formal conference about the op, it’s already underway.”

“You’re pretty confident,” Faro commented. “The admiral and I have drilled into him for over an hour. That’s not very long. He might not crack in time, and even if he does, knows if he’ll even have anything remotely useful.”

“He will,” Eli turned his gaze back to the interrogation, eyes landing on Vah’nya. His expression was particularly grim. “Trust me.”

-/

Thrawn had been in the _Compass_ ’s medbay in passing during his assignment aboard the warship and suspected he’d been whisked through it when he had been dosed with the Grysk’s poison before being transferred to Ar’alani’s far larger, better equipped flagship.

It was useful to know his surroundings, despite only being able to distinguish it by the overhead lights and the consoles beside sterilization units on the far wall. The majority of the medical suite had been stripped to the essentials. He had been shackled to a variation of a chair-like device he’d seen before. The Empire’s version required the individual to support their own body weight, with restraints around the pelvis, wrists, and ankles. This one did not require the individual to stand, indicative of a more intimate, methodical torture than one carried out by an anonymous probe droid.

The status of his restraints did not concern him, however. Thrawn’s concerns were not for himself. The Grysks had seen fit to ignore him after he’d been taken into their custody. Their infernal attention had instead rested solely on Un’hee. Un’hee, who was close by. Un’hee who-

Thrawn snarled but did not thrash against his restraints. It would be futile to do so. He would be forced to wait, to endure, and he knew he had to do so silently, no matter how much she screamed. 

If their captors recognized this as a way to get valuable information from him, her treatment would worsen significantly. He would not allow that. It was his fault she was in this situation as it were, despite her aspirations to volunteer. She was a child. A Navigator of the Ascendancy, sure, but Navigators did not do battle or fight wars. She might aspire to live up to the warrior ideologies they tried to embody, but that was something that took an entire lifetime, whether the Chiss had been gifted with Sight or not.

Still, she did not scream for him to talk or even to make it stop. Something proud burned bright in his chest, allowing him to distance himself just that little bit more from her shrieks of agony. This was a cost of war, of engaging with their enemy, and while the greater good of their people was worth more than one girl’s life, it did not mean he would regret any harm that befell her any less.

When his captors - one Grysk flanked by three Chiss in murky gray coveralls - finally set their sights on him, Thrawn was certain it had at least one hour but less than three since he’d been placed in the room.

He could hear Un’hee whimpering louder now. The door to the medical suite they’d emerged from had likely been left open. Thrawn did not give his captors any indication he noticed. It would be construed as weakness. And it would harm Un’hee if identified, since they would most assuredly exploit it. He was aware of their tactics. The Grysks did not drug those with Sight. They chipped away at their captives’ sanity with pain, then set their sights upon the remains of a Navigator’s fraying mind.

Eyes forward, locked on a Chiss male with long hair that seemed oddly dull under the medbay’s fluorescents, Thrawn refused to flinch as something was injected into his arm. He’d been long since trained to resist torture, to sequester away his innermost secrets even altered by chemical substances. He felt the burn and rush of the hallucinogen as it coursed through his bloodstream, fading into something that felt both frigid and fire all at once. A fusion of Grysk and Chiss procedure, he speculated grimly.

The long-haired Chiss asked questions while the Grysk and two assistants stayed back, watching with stoic faces. Their frustration did not show when Thrawn refused to answer questions even as he felt his vision blur, afterimages projected behind his eyelids when he blinked. His tongue did not thicken, though his mouth began to feel dry. Again, he didn’t give away his predicament, focusing on making no response rather than the psychedelic effects of whatever cocktail they’d dosed him with.

They wanted information on the Aristocra. Thrawn did not tell them he was the wrong person to ask. They wanted information about how he’d escaped the Empire, about their machinations. Thrawn noted, despite the growing auditory distortion and obvious that they did not mention. They layered questions over each other, and eventually, it all began to blur like his vision, the questions coming faster - or perhaps the drug was making his mind move slower - though he continued to focus on keeping quiet, pressing his lips together in a thin line. It was both advantageous and not that his mental processes had been limited by the chemicals in his blood stream. Had he not been trained to remain intently focused on his goal despite his deteriorating state, such a thing would have induced rage, fury, and even the possibility of anxiety. But Thrawn was trained. He did not feel anything but cool indifference and perhaps a little high. He did lift his head, however uncertain as to when it had begun to list forward, and maintained what felt like steady eye contact with the lone Grysk in the room. They did not react, only meeting his gaze and holding it for what felt like far longer than the seconds it lasted. Nothing more.

Still, Thrawn felt no compulsion to speak, and eventually there was another prick, some fast-acting agent injected into the crook of his elbow. He felt himself go slack just milliseconds before his eyes slammed shut.

-/

Chiss weaponry was bulkier than most of what Ezra had used during his time with the rebellion. Not for the first time, he missed his lightsaber desperately. Using a staff or baton was alright, but he hated slinging something to his belt or back that he had to think about, lest he catch himself passing through doorways or be hindered in small spaces. More often than not the weapon remained in its holster if he bothered to carry it all. Ezra found himself more comfortable with the Force’s guidance and whatever make-shift weapon the situation allowed. His adaptability, his scrappiness were his allies in dangerous situations. He’d had plenty of practice learning how to face all sorts of seemingly deadly situations head on thanks to the family he’d come to consider his own.

He had a feeling it was these skills that would help them today. When they had called him down to the cellblock, he knew it was because he would be helping with whatever plan Admiral Ar’alani had cooked up. They would have to work hard to salvage what Thrawn had broken by going off on his own.

Being honest with himself, however, Ezra found that he couldn’t deny Thrawn’s reasoning. He wanted to protect the people he cared about. Bringing Un’hee into it definitely wasn’t okay, but he’d been more than capable of coercion even as a little kid. It was a survival tool he’d used to the fullest as a kid on the streets of his homeworld. Whether Thrawn liked it or not, Un’hee had several similarities to the older Chiss that probably couldn’t be ignored following this.

Ezra wondered if maybe this was the mission he needed to undertake for the Chiss, the reason he’d felt so sure he was needed to follow Thrawn back to the Unknown Regions in the first place. The Force had not so subtly nudged him in this direction, tying him to Thrawn. Thrawn, Ezra knew, was devoted to his people. He may not have wanted to put any of his (well, Ezra assumed that Thrawn considered most of them) friends at risk, but the choice was out of his hands now.

They had to rescue them. Ezra clenched his fists until the material of the combat gloves he’d been given squelched and stretched over his knuckles. It would be difficult. He felt the disturbance aboard the _Steadfast_ like a rapidly approaching stormcloud. He had no doubt that whatever awaited them aboard the _Compass_ would be far worse.

The cells in this wing of the ship were all empty. Graphite colored doors remained closed and lighting strips between equally dark durasteel floor panels illuminated them. At the end of the hall he could make out Commander Faro and Captain Ivant. Faro appeared a bit more skeptical compared to Ivant. The captain’s face was an impassive mask. Someone without the Force at their disposal might have been impressed.

But the Force was strong with Ezra. He could feel the turbulence of worry and pressed back anger that hung over Eli like it held a physical form. The humans stood out brightly in his extended senses compared to the more muted Chiss nearby. Though Ezra could hardly read their minds, he could get a read on their emotional state even if Vanto hadn’t been off balance and projecting. Ezra had long since accepted his ability to connect with others. He long suspected that it increased his need to meditate - he felt like a lightning rod for errant emotions sometimes - but that was a small price to pay for heightened empathy.

Eli Vanto was justified in feeling how he did, Ezra thought. It didn’t take an idiot to figure out that he’d had an altercation with Thrawn, had tried to stop him from going off on whatever this suicide mission - Ar’alani had called it that first - was. 

And then, Ezra remembered. He remembered Un’hee: months and months ago, how she’d reached for Thrawn, been cradled against the stoic Chiss’s chest, talking about Eli and Vah’nya while Thrawn struggled to console her with truths that weren’t very comforting at all.

Ezra thought about the man he once knew. Grand Admiral Thrawn: the cold, ruthless executor of calculated plans. The lone alien seemingly at the top of the Imperial Navy. The war criminal who had opened fire on the civilians of Lothal to prove a point to a barely grown Jedi. The servant who would have done anything to please his emperor.

That man was not the same as the one who had gone off to confront the Grysks and their clients in a more intimate setting, who strove to defeat the infiltrators within his own people who might yet be within his ability to save. His heinous actions with the Empire could never truly be atoned for, but Ezra was not foolish enough to think that he too did not have the blood of innocents on his hands. Thrawn knew the lesson, and he recognized his mistake even if it was made with good intent. Thrawn had always had a clear mission.

He’d said to Un’hee that night, as she cried against his chest: _We must strive to protect that which we care about. It is why we serve, is it not?_

Still, there was one lesson Ezra believed Thrawn had yet to learn: He wasn’t alone. 

The only reason Ezra had ever been able to go off on his own to face his reckoning with Thrawn over Lothal was because he’d had people to back him up. His friends - his family - had rallied.

Thrawn had amassed a crew like that, Ezra supposed. He had Eli and Ezra, Faro and Ar’alani, even Vah’nya and Un’hee. Ezra got the feeling he’d always had Ar’alani at his back, even if she held herself apart from the rest. They weren’t just going to let him sacrifice himself. 

“Has he said anything?” Ezra asked as soon as he was close enough not to yell. He tried to be casual about his approach and not appear like he’d spent the last several minutes lost in his thoughts.

Faro shook her head. “We don’t have much time,” She answered, though it felt more like she was talking to Vanto. The captain hummed, giving Ezra the impression that this was something she had said before. 

Gestured closer, Ezra was allowed a glimpse inside the interrogation room. Tanik remained tall, despite being cuffed, puffed up and proud. His red eyes glowed in the dim light and the way he held himself spoke of defiance. His body language matched his words: indignant insults and haughty pride. Tanik was spiteful to the core. When he wasn’t speaking, the Chiss’s lips were thin and pale, pressed shut as Ar’alani asked questions and made no headway. She followed up by speculating truths and lies that might get him to slip up when he resumed his mocking commentary. In return she received a cool, unimpressed gaze.

Then there was Vah’nya. She stood further back, not quite pressed against the wall behind Ar’alani. It seemed like Tanik had forgotten about her or perhaps she’d not wanted to be present in the first place. Ezra couldn’t tell. 

Admiral Ar’alani was a very vibrant woman when frustrated, she wore her anger like armor. It made her sharper. “She-” Ezra paused, aware of the volume of his voice in the otherwise silent space. “It doesn’t seem like the admiral is trying very hard,” He finished, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

“Oh?” Captain Ivant cast his eyes to the left. He focused on Ezra for a moment in his periphery before returning his gaze to the window and the interrogation underway. “Your reasoning?” He drawled, voice pitched low and curious-like.

Faro tutted. “It’s freaky when you do that.”

Shrugging, Eli retorted, “He needs to make the connections,” And waited for the Jedi to answer.

Ezra scratched the back of his head with his hand before returning it to his side. He had his suspicions. “She doesn’t believe Tanik will confess anything?”

The captain hummed. “Or?”

“Or,” The Jedi parroted as he arranged his second theory, “Or she already suspects what’s going on and just needs him to confirm details. That’s why she’s making the contradicting statements.”

Eli turned to Faro with the slightest angling of his shoulders. The commander shook her head, but acknowledged him anyway. “It’s eerie how good you are at this, you know that?”

“He was my commander a lot longer than he was yours,” Eli said. Ezra ignored the prickle of pain that passed through Ivant in the Force, keen on grasping the bigger picture. “You and I are both a testament to him being a good teacher.”

She shrugged. It was hard to argue that, apparently. “Still,” She said, “I don’t have anything to add.”

“The third option,” Eli began when Ar’alani fell silent for the first time in ten minutes, leaning over the table and meeting her former mid-commander’s gaze at close range, “Is that she doesn’t care if he speaks either way.”

“What?” Faro’s voice was incredulous. Ezra got the feeling that Faro had always been outspoken, prone to chime in with what she thought. At this point, he agreed with her. It wouldn’t make any sense.

“Ar’alani was never going to get Tanik to talk,” Ezra summarized, unsure that he’d heard Ivant correctly.

“So why waste our time?” Faro asked for herself and Ezra both. They exchanged a look of puzzlement, clearly coming to the same conclusion.

“An act of kindness,” Eli said when Ar’alani straightened and stepped back from their prisoner, turning toward the door and exiting without another word. She did not look back at Vah’nya. Ezra watched as the Navigator shifted from her aloof posture into something almost feline and very focused.

Then, Vah’nya turned her head and met Vanto’s gaze as though the mirrored transparisteel was entirely clear. Ezra felt the weight of her stare both literally and spiritually. When the moment broke, the Navigator took two steps forward and to the right. She stood directly before Tanik, her blood red eyes seeming to glow brighter than Ezra could remember.

 _“I won’t speak to you either, Navigator,”_ Tanik spat. The small speaker crackled with latent static. _“I have nothing to say. Playing off of each other will not work, no matter how kind you are. Save your breath.”_

Vah’nya considered him for a moment. _“If you believe,”_ She began, voice soft but for the intensity of her words, _“That the admiral was to be the cruel one, I regret to inform you that you have misread the situation entirely.”_ She discarded her gloves. 

_“You will speak to me,”_ She continued as if speaking to her gloves or even the table. 

Tanik snorted. _“Have you ever interrogated anyone before?”_ He asked her. _“Ar’alani has more military experience than you have years alive and she has not been successful.”_

 _“I wish to know how many crew members are aboard the vessel scheduled to dock with the_ Steadfast _,”_ Vah’nya queried. _“Will they report to the_ Compass _or the warship that awaits us at the rendezvous?”_ She lifted her gaze to Tanik, no longer smoothing out the mesh-like gloves of her uniform.

_“I will not tell you.”_

_“But you know?”_ She asked.

 _“Know what?”_ Outside the room, Ar’alani stiffened where she stood beside Ivant. Vah’nya didn’t rise to the bait.

 _“The Aristocra will not tolerate cruel treatment of an officer,”_ He prodded. _“Were you not listening?”_ Then, he leaned back, relaxing against his chair. _“Besides,”_ He spat, _“You have no weapons on you, no torture devices… So, you’ll violate me with your Sight,”_ He speculated.

 _“I do not have time to use Second Sight,”_ She said. She studied her hands then raised her head, tilting it to the left as she returned her gaze to his face. _“Tell me, have you heard of Project Compass?”_

 _“Ah,”_ Tanik said. _“The secret Navigator project that has yet to bear fruit. What of it?”_

 _“It bears fruit,”_ Vah’nya said. Her voice curled with something familiar that Ezra couldn’t place. _“Shall I show you?”_

“Vanto,” Faro murmured quietly. “What the hell-”

“You may want to look away,” Vanto answered, though he didn’t. That didn’t answer her question at all. 

Ezra felt the cold. It was like snow-melt dripping down his spine, the darkness thick like flavorless syrup, not the saccharine oily feeling he was used to, there and gone before anything even happened. Faro flinched like he did, though she took a single step back for an entirely different reason.

The interrogation room lit up blue-white as the transparisteel cracked and shattered in what felt like lightspeed in slow motion. Lightning struck without thunder. Ezra could still see the brightness of it when he closed his eyes. He could hear Tanik scream, more fear than pain.

The transparisteel window - the two way mirror separating the hallway of the cellblock from the interrogation room - had been reduced to sand-like fragments that glittered against the inlaid floor lighting. The durasteel frame hissed and smoked as though it had been touched by extreme heat.

“Tell me everything,” Vah’nya ordered, speaking over the crackle of destroyed electronics from the speaker embedded below the window’s opening. Her left hand relaxed and drifted down. She regarded her unblemished fingertips, then flexed them. “The sensation is not pleasant for a living being, I am told,” She said, and allowed her hand to fall the rest of the way to her side.

Tanik stared upon Vah’nya in horror and wonder, deathbringer and salvation all in one. He panted, reeling in his seat as he looked between the damage and the Navigator who regarded him, tall, proud, and regal. The fight seemed to leave him like a tangible thing. He swallowed hard, worked his jaw. His eyes remained wide with astonishment.

Then, he spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Project Compass, y'all.
> 
> Next time: A trap must be dealt with.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Time: A trap must be dealt with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter count revised again. Even at 10+ pages a piece, I'm still not covering nearly as much ground as I thought. More for you, I guess. ✨

Ezra felt the subtle nudge of the Force pushing him forward, telling him to pay attention. Something had changed in that moment when Vah’nya’s fingertips glowed white and lightning arced through the interrogation room at her behest.

The disgraced mid-commander spoke as though possessed. Tanik gave everything from his instructions and plans to what he knew of the incoming forces waiting for them on the freighter set to deliver the uncovered “shipment.” He recalled every detail he could remember, then answered every question Vah’nya, Ar’alani, and even Ivant had asked him. He knew little of the _Compass_ , other than that he was to take the freighter and bring it to the _Compass_ when enemy forces had locked down the hangar upon their arrival.

The Admiral had seen the plans for what they were. “Their warship plans to take the _Steadfast_ ,” She said, and Tanik winced, finally tearing his gaze away from Vah’nya’s face.”

“There are explosives aboard the freighter,” Vanto speculated, to Tanik’s growing horror. “Either we surrender and they render us dead to rights or blow us out of the sky.”

“That’s not right,” Tanik interjected. “They wouldn’t-”

“No,” Vah’nya corrected, “ _We_ wouldn’t. But the Grysks,” She paused for emphasis, her gaze condemning, “And anyone who has been compromised by them - would.”

“You have the misfortune of being one of the few not so entrenched in their ranks to still be able to see it,” Ar’alani told him when Vah’nya stepped away and yielded to her authority. “Our people - loyal people - will die because of your mistakes in judgement.” She stepped into the room and released him from his bindings. “You will be tried for your transgressions,” She told him with the finality of a door being slammed shut. “But first, you will help us make this right.”

It wasn’t a question and yet the answer laid in Tanik’s response. “Yes, admiral,” Agreed Tanik.

Ezra could feel the regret, the hollowness, the embers of loyalty he held for Ar’alani, peeking through the gouges made in his prideful ignorance. Tanik was not a good being, of that Ezra was certain. But he did believe himself to be loyal to his people. He’d chosen the wrong side and was unwilling to die for his crimes. Clearly he was only truly committed to himself.

“You will not leave my sight,” The admiral said, indicating what must have been a concealed blaster at her hip. “If you deviate from our plan or disobey my orders, I will execute you myself.” Tanik gulped at that.

Ezra looked around at the collection of resolved faces. “Plan?” He asked, but pressed forward despite wincing at his own interruption. “You already have one? He _just_ told us what was going on!”

Vanto nodded. “This isn’t our first rodeo,” He said in Basic, pointedly ignoring the younger man’s lack of decorum. Faro snorted and the admiral rolled her eyes, though Ezra wasn’t sure if Ar’alani had understood what he’d said. In Cheunh, he refocused them with a kindly phrased order, “Let’s get to the hangar and prepare for the first phase.”

The picture began to change in Ezra’s mind before they’d met a small task force inside the main hangar. He knew the _Steadfast_ would be targeting the concealed Grysk warship Tanik had confirmed for them. The freighter’s arrival time could not be altered with - it would raise suspicion. Ar’alani sent Faro back to the bridge to prepare her vessel for combat as their group and the task force finished fanning out around a holoprojector.

There would be two theatres of combat.

The first would be the larger and more obvious maneuver Ezra had predicted: the _Steadfast_ would tangle with both the Grysk warship and the renegade _Compass_ if need be. Ar’alani outlined her plan without going into specifics, because this group was very clearly a part of the second, more intricate battle about to take place.

Ezra was reminded of that first time he had joined Ar’alani for combat, when he’d found himself face to face with Grysks for the first time. He bit back a shudder at the way the strange beings had felt, oily and icy and malevolent in the Force. Ar’alani was crisp and direct. She split the troops she’d selected into two teams, briefing each on their objectives. One would hold the hangar for the other to handle the crew aboard the freighter. Ezra fell into the group who would be going to the _Compass_. That didn’t particularly surprise him, though he felt a pang of concern for the _Steadfast._

Ar’alani must have seen it on his face. She held his gaze for a moment, scrutinizing him. He bowed his head in deference and she moved on. “The second team will report to Ivant.”

The Captain stepped forward as Ar’alani inclined her head. “We have three objectives,” The holotable pulled up a multidimensional projection of the _Compass_ , already flashing in three widespread areas. He indicated the first. “The enemy will have compromised the engine and shield systems. We also have to assume the hyperdrive will be compromised using a manual interface, though they may also employ a remote to keep things under control on the bridge.” He tapped the console and the route from the engine room to the hangar was illuminated. “The tech team-” Ezra looked to the group of six Chiss behind him when Vanto nodded to them. Clearly he had been a little too caught up in his own musings and missed some things, “Will deactivate the explosives and power down everything but life support.”

Another tap on the console changed the projection back to the overview of the warship. “The second team will be the strike force.” This time Vanto regarded the group on Ezra’s left, twelve more Chiss that looked well versed in combat if the way they held themselves was any indication. “They will reclaim the bridge.” His gaze was striking when it landed on Ezra and he stiffened to attention without thinking about it. “Bridger will accompany this group. We must take control of the bridge by any means necessary, so I don’t recommend keeping your weapons set for non-lethal damage.”

Vah’nya nodded. “Ivant and I will locate the Navigators, and free any captives we identify once the bridge team secures their objective.”

Seamlessly, the Captain continued, “We’ll need the bridge team in place to make sure we can neutralize any death-traps and minimize loss of life.” Ezra didn’t hear any hint of irritation or pain he’d felt from Ivant earlier. The Captain felt nearly serene, though Ezra supposed it was resolve and professionalism, but maybe Ivant had learned how to keep his cool from the Chiss and really was that calm. “Tanik suspects that they’ll be interrogating high level prisoners, which is consistent with what we know of the enemy’s tactics. The Navigators will likely be kept contained within a high security clearance area if not within the detention cells with the rest of the prisoners. Either way, we’ll neutralize the threat and get them out.”

A tall, thickly muscled Chiss took a step toward the holotable and waited for Vah’nya’s indication that he could speak. “You two should not go alone.”

“We’ll be fine,” Vah’nya assured. “We will not be alone for long.” She pursed her lips. “Our guest,” She indicated Tanik, “Has been so kind as to inform us that Senior Captain Khresh is still alive. He is one of our secondary objectives, but he will be able to assist us, or any of the other teams so long as he is relatively uninjured.” She turned and looked at the man standing behind her and almost shoulder-to-shoulder with the Admiral. Tanik flinched. Perhaps she saw some reasoning within that? Her gaze had looked especially predatory, from Ezra’s perspective. Though, perhaps there was something about Khresh being alive that was of value to Tanik. Everyone aboard the _Steadfast_ knew that there had been bad blood between the two officers due to familial disputes. It was common knowledge and water-cooler gossip. Was the disgraced Chiss truly that petty?

Without waiting for permission, a woman’s voice rang out from one of the squads. “How are we so sure that the enemy transport won’t blow up in our faces? Certainly they’ll realize it’s a trap.”

At this, Ar’alani indicated her unrestrained but very captive prisoner. “Tanik was meant to detonate the ship remotely if there was an issue. However,” She nudged him forward by several millimetres, and he had enough shame to cast his gaze at the floor instead of meeting the accusing faces of his peers. Upon closer inspection, Ezra realized there was a remote in her hand. “It seems we caught on to his machinations before the ship was in range. Now, he will be assuring his comrades that all is well,” She regarded him with a false kindness that made Ezra gulp. “And in exchange, I will suggest that the Admiralty consider alternatives to execution.”

Angry murmurs suggested that the disgraced commander didn’t deserve such treatment, but Ar’alani did not back down and the muttering subsided quickly. “If there are no further questions, I suggest you study your datapads while we wait for the enemy to make their move. We will be arriving at the rendezvous shortly.”

-/

“Admiral, a moment.”

Ar’alani turned toward the person calling her. Ahead, a group of six officers - all armed - led an incarcerated Tanik toward the bridge to play his part in the proceedings. The Chiss woman rolled her shoulders back and down, regarding the human before her with serious eyes.

“The plan has progressed sooner than we imagined,” She said to him, one eyebrow rising in a silent challenge.

Ivant did not give her any. He merely inclined his head.

She read into what he did not say. “You have spoken to Vah’nya.”

“And canvassed the Jedi.”

“And?”

“Vah’nya has always been amenable.” He shifted his weight from left to right and crossed his arms. “Bridger won’t stay forever, but I don’t think he planned on leaving anytime soon. I was going to broach the subject in a more official capacity once this is all over.”

Considering the thought, she waved a hand before speaking as if to dismiss the point. The Jedi’s inclinations changed little. “Moreover, are you prepared for what you must do?”

“I am,” He said. “Do I have your blessing?”

“Yes, Eli’van’to,” She nodded, “You have it. I expect you’ve already submitted the paperwork.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Very good.” For a moment, her serene aloofness receded, and Eli was granted the sight of a genuine smile and intelligent eyes bright with concern. “You will only get one chance at this. Make your actions count.”

“I will,” He vowed. “Thank you, Admiral Ar’alani.”

“It has been my pleasure, Captain Eli’van’to.” A klaxon rang shrilly in the direction of the hangar. They both knew it was a precursory alarm, feeling the mild shift of the ship beneath t heir feet preparing to emerge from hyperspace. “And now, we go.” She regarded him sharply.

“May warrior’s fortune be with you,” Said Eli, shifting to a formal salute, one hand pressed over his heart.

She mirrored the action: a rarely utilized token of respect from superior to subordinate, meant to indicate the superior officer regarded their subordinate to be their equal. “May it smile upon you as well,” She paused, and her reserved gaze held pride as she added, “Warrior of the Chiss Ascendancy.”

-/

The teams were prepared. Having been hand selected by Ar’alani meant that they were more than up to the task. Tanik had handled his portion according to plan, no doubt forced by the admiral to fulfill his intended role whether under duress or resigned agreement. The enemy was given clearance by the ‘temporarily re-instated’ Mid Commander, and the dozen elite troops instructed to hold the hangar moved swiftly, falling in with the infiltrators under the guise of being their support. A jammer and three signal dampeners later, the entire group - the nearly twenty Chiss intending to wreak havoc upon the _Steadfast_ were neutralized. They had intended to fight, but Ar’alani’s strike force was well trained. It was hardly a battle.

The infiltration attempt was pitiful at best. Uncoordinated, but the potential for destruction was there. Had Tanik been able to allow them aboard the ship and given them access to offload their explosives - or worse, to detonate them - the _Steadfast_ would have been compromised or even potentially blown from the sky.

It indicated deadly intent and dangerous potential. It couldn’t be allowed to stand.

“What should we do with the explosives aboard?” Ezra asked, poking his head into the ship’s cargo hold.

“Leave them,” Replied Eli. He waved his hand. “The _Compass_ is already rigged for self-destruct protocol,” He explained. “Having them with us will be no more of a liability than it would’ve been to step foot in the _Compass_ as is. Besides, we might need them later.”

The other human pulled an unhappy face but relented.

The captain shook his head ruefully as he steered Ezra in the direction of the helm. “We’ll be underway before you know it.”

Vah’nya waited for them in the cockpit, already cycling through her pre-flight checks. “Just waiting for Tanik to give them the all clear. After that, Ar’alani stalls and we jettison ourselves into the belly of the beast.”

“Good. The teams are standing by,” Ivant said.

It took another fourteen minutes for Tanik to transmit his codes and establish contact with enemy forces aboard the _Compass_ , but the moment he was speaking, Vah’nya had let the ship hover off the deck plates and drift toward the two-way shield that separated the hangar from deep space.

No matter how many times he’d looked out at the stars, Ivant found he never got tired of it. Somehow the inky void had become a home, the endless expanse welcoming in its cold, familiar way. As he watched the capitol ship - _his_ ship, the one his capture and escape from the Grysks had earned - replace the stars in the viewport, all sleek and gleaming and agile in the distance, he couldn’t help the sense of nostalgia that stole over him.

He hadn’t had the vessel for a long time, but it’d been a good ship. Unbroken in battle save for mild repairs, well traveled, and home to what had started out as a loyal crew. He drank in the sight of his first - and last - command and allowed himself a sigh. The ship wasn’t going to look like a vicious protector when they were through with it.

“ _Compass_ has engaged their tractor beam,” Vah’nya said softly. They hadn’t accounted for that.

“Damn,” Ivant said. His gaze drifted to the gaping maw of his ship’s hangar. It was smaller than the Steadfast’s, but it was still large. “They won’t have a large crew holding the ship. We’ll need to neutralize the hangar staff.” He rose, giving his ship one last, lingering view from the outside, and turned back to the main cabin.

The sound of troops checking blaster cartridges and adjusting their armor was loud when the hydraulic doors opened into the small galley area.

“Change of plans,” Ivant said, then threw a look over his shoulder at Ezra and jerked his head to indicate this involved him, too. “I know you all felt the jerk of the tractor beam. We need to secure the hangar. They’ll be working with a skeleton crew.”

The strike team seemed to confer among each other. “Captain,” Their leader said, “We can spare two to take hangar control. That should give us eyes and ears. Hopefully it will be enough to hold our position.”

Ivant nodded. “Alright Lieutenant Commander. Make the changes.” He inclined his head to Ezra. “Ezra will go with you to make sure things stay quiet. After the hangar is secure, we’ll move out.” Orders received, the troops began to shuffle about in the small open area, making their arrangements.

As they went back to check on Vah’nya in the cockpit, Ezra called out to Eli. “You’re awful sure about this,” He muttered. “There could be an entire army of traitors waiting for us in that hangar.”

“There won’t be,” Ivant vowed, confident. “They don’t have enough trustworthy staff for something like that. They probably don’t even have enough space to stow their prisoners. If I had to guess they’ve sealed everyone out with the blast doors and an override. The high value prisoners will be isolated in the brig.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Positive,” Said Ivant. He met Ezra’s gaze. “I have a bit of inside knowledge, remember?”

The Jedi did remember, Ivant could see it in his face, the way his features wrinkled and softened so quick it was almost like it hadn’t happened at all. The young man blinked, and his deep blue eyes shifted before losing some of their accusing nature. “I’m worried,” He admitted.

Ivant stopped in his tracks, taking the time to pat the young man’s back. “Me too,” He admitted, in Basic this time.

Ezra blinked at him in surprise. “You are?”

“That so hard to believe?” Eli’s voice was warm, curling with that Wild Space drawl. They paused in the tiny hall between the cockpit and galley. “Just because I’m confident in the plan doesn’t mean I haven’t considered its weak points. Thrawn’s out there itchin’ to get himself killed because he thinks it's going to save people and-”

“Wouldn’t it?” Ezra interrupted.

“Some,” The captain reckoned. But not all. There wasn’t a way to save everyone aboard the _Compass_ , it had been too long since the infiltration and mutiny had occurred. Thrawn was acting to minimize casualties, but there was another way.

Some of the captain’s thought processes must have been transparent to Ezra, because he said, “He did it for the right reasons, even if he didn’t-” Ezra flushed. Of all those present when he’d come to in the sickbay, Ezra was the one who understood both what he said, and the context. The kid didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to. “You know.”

Eyebrows rising in a gesture that was half furious, half conflicted - but not at Ezra, Eli’s gaze was far away when he replied, “Yeah, I know.” His lips didn’t quite make it to a smile, but the hand he placed on Ezra’s shoulder was grounding. Reaffirming. “Can you do something for me?” He asked, brandishing the tiny controller Ezra had seen in Ar’alani’s hands earlier, a small remote that blinked slow and sluggish, as if it were benign and not the key to their vessel’s destruction. “I think that if anyone will be able to tell when or even if we need to make this play, it will be you.”

The Jedi looked at it, recognizing the device for what it was. “Okay,” Ezra said, looking back up. His voice held resolve. He understood what was being asked of him. “I will.”

“Good,” Eli said. “I’m counting on you.”

-/

There was a pattern to the sounds coming from the next room, but Thrawn's mind couldn't quite make sense of it. Every bit of his body felt weighed down, his senses dampened and all sound muffled though he could not feel the weight of any device covering his ears. He attempted to open his eyes, but even the ultra-dimmed lights of this location - Where was he? - were overpowering to him. His eyes watered and burned, so he let them fall closed and relished the relief that the inside of his eyelids provided.

Voices. That was the first sound, the words indistinguishable from beneath his haze. There were two. One had the unmistakable intonation of a Chiss, and the other, more frequent speaker was…

Grysk. Thrawn did not panic when the memories did not come back to him immediately, his usually sharp recall failing to provide him with the details. Panicking was not something he did, even on the cusp of death. He knew with certainty that this situation was nowhere near that. The sound shifted, something like shuffling?

No, that was not right. It wasn't muted footsteps. Thrawn forced himself to focus on listening, keeping himself limp, eyes closed, completely still in his restraints. The sound became slightly clearer, though not by much. This sound was quieter than the first.

Breathing, he thought to himself. Heavy breaths, wet hiccoughs interspersed with sobs-

And then more screaming. Shrill, painful to his ears, which were about as sensitive as his eyes to the stimulation, the screaming carried on for a thirty second interval before the cycle repeated.

He should know who was screaming, he chastised himself by the third cycle, but it couldn't be helped. His thoughts were slurry from what he surmised to be a potent chemical cocktail in his bloodstream. This was obvious information. Obvious but not useful. He needed to formulate a plan.

What was the last thing he remembered?

That, it seemed, his mind could tell him. The _Steadfast._ He was in the hangar, and Eli had-

And then _Thrawn_ had…

It all clicked into place painfully fast, adrenaline wiping away some of the drug induced stupor. Un'hee, he thought, wincing viscerally when the girl screamed again, hoarse and brokenly. He listened to the Grysk again, crooning in its native tongue, a language he knew Un'hee could understand. A language Thrawn did not, could only gather context from.

It was an interrogation, to say the least. That much he was sure of. An interrogation and an attempt to break her. A pause came in the enemy's questioning, and the Chiss with them - male, possibly the one he barely recalled from earlier - began to speak in Messe Calf, but Un'hee interrupted them.

"You will have to kill me," She said in Cheunh, her voice - a child’s voice - warped into a snarl even as she paused between words to gather breath. "I will tell you nothing. I will show you _nothing._ "

“You will find,” The Grysk began menacingly, “You have little say in the matter.”

The cycle began again, with a sort of vehemence it did not have before. When it stopped, their captors realizing that Thrawn was again lucid enough for questioning, the Chiss captain was grateful. Grateful for anything that would take their captors’ attention away from Un’hee, if only for a little while.

They asked far fewer questions of him this time around, quickly growing tired of his rambling - it was an obvious attempt to pull their attention away from the tiny Navigator in the adjacent suite and they all knew it. He’d been dosed again before they returned to their torment of the Navigator, barely allowing enough time for Un’hee’s sobs to subside into wheezes.

“Who will cave first?” One of the Chiss asked, looking between them in the doorway. “Maybe instead you will break. The one who wants you,” They said, indicating Thrawn, “Might be grateful.” His voice bled with malice, yet remained light and apparently amused as the Grysk gave a trill of scratchy delight regarding the latter option. Thrawn could barely make out the words, his eyes feeling almost too heavy from whatever they’d given him to close them all the way. It made his eyes burn, but he could feel very little otherwise, his senses no longer overstimulated but feeling like they were cut off. He received the information they collected, but it simply… existed, indiscernible.

He struggled to focus on each blink, on his hearing. Those were the two most powerful senses he could retain at this moment. It was a losing battle, but just for a moment longer, perhaps he could-

There were more words being spoken. Threatening ones. Un’hee. Then the Grysk, in his language, shouting something Thrawn knew he did not understand. Un’hee spoke again, but the words were like trying to collect smoke with his bare hands.

Seconds later, his vision went white, flickering before the normal overhead lights attempted to turn back on. By the time anything could have shifted into focus, his sight had gone hazy and blurred beyond recognition, and the effort required to blink was impossible. He felt himself lose the ability to perceive anything at all, all traces of rational, conscious being fading away amid a symphony of screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Vah'nya and Eli stage a rescue.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Eli and Vah'nya stage a rescue.

Vah’nya fell in behind Eli with grace, dropping out of a ventilation shaft and landing silently on the durasteel. It was an impressive feat, one Eli himself had not been capable of, being at least fifty-percent heavier than the Chiss woman. He’d been quiet, of course, but he hadn’t achieved the near-silence like she had.

It wasn’t their first time sneaking around through a ship’s bowels.

“At least we know our way around this one better,” She whispered on an exhale, earning a tilt of the head and one single dark eye appraising her.

Eli’s expression was grim. He could see things Vah’nya couldn’t, just like the possibilities and impressions she saw with her Sight that he would never be able to see. But for how skilled she was, for all her Sight, she lacked experience in sensitive missions like these. She had experience in hopeless situations - and this one had yet to come close to that particular instance though it had only just begun - but Eli knew she didn’t see the potential cracks or all the moving pieces just waiting to unravel. He had to be steps ahead of all of them, which wasn’t easy considering they were without communications until the bridge team secured their objective or the tech team found a workaround - a secondary objective for them as well. 

Once upon a time, Eli had assumed Thrawn to be a man who could predict the future, who knew his enemies so intimately he could predict exactly which path they would choose. Now, Eli saw Thrawn and his other former commanders in a different light. Thrawn, perhaps, was the one closest to knowing his enemies, but he was not all-knowing, and he most certainly miscalculated more than Eli had ever caught on in the past. The difference was that he course corrected, saw the variables, anticipated the fluctuations and adapted before anyone could catch on. 

Eli had had some time to work on that. Eli would never be the same kind of genius Thrawn was, would never things the way he did. Even so, Eli had managed to find his place, his role, maybe even his destiny amongst the Chiss people, and now only their enemies stood in the way of him claiming it.

And he would claim it. Both for himself, and for his charges - the Ascendancy’s greatest secret - who had come to depend on him.

“What’s the tracker saying?” Vah’nya asked.

“It’s been stationary for hours,” Eli replied. “Enemy’s employed too much jamming to get a good read, even with the additional frequencies. All I know is that it’s aboard this ship,” He slipped the tiny device back into a pouch on his belt. “And it doesn’t help us find Un’hee, so you’re up.”

The Navigator took a grounding breath, let her eyes fall closed and her facial muscles go slack as she reached out with her mind. Precognition came naturally as she experienced her life, but actively seeking to see with her additional sense was a skill that she’d been working to hone. She thought of Un’hee, of the bright spark of the child’s laughter, of her tears, of her goodness. Of that strength she’d shown, from the very first time she’d met the young Navigator years ago.

“The upper levels. Aft. I think I’ll get a better read on it as we get closer.” 

Rubbing his chin for a moment, Eli considered her determination. “Executive officer quarters?” He suggested. “They’d be easy to repurpose into containment for lower-level staff who would have never had access to them, including Navigators,” He hedged, but even as he said that, it didn’t feel right. Judging by the face Vah’nya was making, she felt the same.

“No,” She refuted. “They’d want to question her. Maybe try to hold her against Captain Thrawn.” It was a sick thought, but their enemies had never displayed any sort of decency. “So the best place for that is-

“The medbay,” They decided together, taking the next corridor to the right and heading for the nearest turbolift.

“We’ll have to hurry to get there before the tech team cuts the power,” Eli reminded her.

“Or, they can power our lift and leave everyone else immobile.”

“You’re assuming the jammers go down with the rest of the systems, which isn’t likely. Besides, I’d like to do this with as few people expecting us as possible,” He said. “The last thing we need is to waste all our energy at the beginning. We’re gonna need it.”

Vah’nya pursed her lips. “I know, Eli,” She quipped. “Last time, I think that was the sort of thing I had been saying to you.” She didn’t dare think too hard about the horrific meaning behind her words.

The rest of their trek to the medbay that serviced the upper levels was spent in silence. Pointed looks took the place of verbal warnings, a tilt of the head mimicked a change in direction, a slow blink indicated the necessity of a detour. It wasn't a system meant to be used by the military. The nonverbal communication used by the CDF consisted of hand signals and taps with different meanings, a multifaceted language that allowed anyone to understand even with one or more senses obstructed. They knew it, every single being in the CDF was required to know of and be able to use it. They just didn't need it.

There had been times when they couldn't use it. When Eli's ears had been bleeding and his hands bound. Times when one or both of them had been too exhausted to move by more than seemingly insignificant twitches. What had befallen them had made them a great team. Unorthodox and certainly nowhere close to regulation, but an efficient team all the same. 

When they had resumed active duty after their time in captivity, Eli had been worried that their new tactics would be frowned upon. Now, they would be invaluable against an enemy - especially one who would have noticed the military protocol and understood. 

The turbolift stopped on the medbay's level with a small ding that echoed through the corridor. Guards were posted there, an indication that they were on the right path. Both Vah’nya and Eli dodged the first round of blasterfire from the three guardsmen waiting for them. They shot faster than their enemies could the second time, squeezing off fatal blows just milliseconds out of sync. The sound drew the attention of two more patrolling Chiss, both of whom fell just as quickly as the first.

Vah’nya looked at them in disdain. “They wear the enemy’s client uniforms by choice,” She scoffed. Eli wasn’t sure if she was using her Sight to see their intentions, nor if it worked on the dead. Now wasn’t the time to find out, though he made a note to ask her later. It was important for him to have a more complete understanding of her abilities. “And for what?”

“Maybe they truly thought a long con would work,” Eli considered.

“You and I both know that there is no way to work with that kind of evil.”

“Maybe not yet,” At her insistent look, he held up his hands, blaster turned toward the far wall but still tucked in his left palm. He rolled his eyes, and agreed ruefully, “Maybe not ever. But don’t ever close yourself off to a potential outcome just because it seems unlikely. Desperation makes a being do crazy things, some of which you can turn to your advantage if you need to.”

“Yes, perhaps if they came to us,” The Navigator huffed, tucking away the knowledge, knowing that Eli was trying to impart wisdom that might not help her in this, but could help her in another situation someday. “But I know they are evil. I _see_ it. We cannot approach them. They will only take.”

“I know,” He relented, then paused to listen for any potential movement in their direction. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

They met little resistance as they stole through the upper levels. As Vah’nya’s Sight pulled at her, giving her confidence in their heading, so too did the tiny receiver in Eli’s possession attempt to give out a still jumbled but slightly better . They couldn’t be sure if that was a good sign or not, the idea that the two of them had been kept together reminded them of another situation, one they knew intimately and would not wish upon any other. 

The upper-level medbay was the smallest of the three aboard the _Compass_. Tucked away in a little-used corridor, there was a good chance it was minimally guarded. The possibility of a takeover was likely discarded. 

Their enemy was arrogant. They did not understand the people they wished to subjugate in the Chiss. Not yet, at least, and neither Eli nor Vah’nya were keen on giving them more of an opportunity to do so. The Chiss were a proud people, but at their core they were warriors. Eli respected them for that, even if their pride had been a little off putting at first. Well, he admitted - only to himself - a lot off putting, honestly. 

It didn’t bother him anymore. Pride had its place. The Chiss who betrayed the rest of their people, who were siding with the Grysk had lost sight of where pride ended and arrogance began. They needed to be reminded. 

Except, when they entered the medbay, the only sound they could hear was a dull crackle, static.. The two of them exchanged a worried glance at the oddity. Certainly if both Un’hee and Thrawn could be tracked to this location they would be under heavy guard. Definitely not good, Eli thought. 

They had taken two steps into the general triage area when every light cut for three seconds before the inlaid lighting strips on the deck plates brightened to a pale tealish glow.

"Main power grid's offline," Eli mouthed to her. Vah’nya’s eyes glowed fiercely in the darkness, and she nodded to him resolutely as they proceeded further into the bay.

A sliver of light that stood out: A pure white light that glowed around the seams of a closed door. It had to be a treatment suite, a series of more private bays at the back of the infirmary. Vah'nya readied her weapon as Eli motioned with the barrel of his blaster. He crouched and, moving as silently as possible, moved up to the closed door. The hydraulics worked despite the overarching power grid being brought offline, so he toggled the door and swung into the doorway, crouched low, prepared to shoot at an enemy hopefully caught unaware. 

The cold blast of air from the treatment room hit Eli's face, but no enemies advanced. Aside from the shifting air currents, all was eerily still.

The overhead lights - lights that were considered critical and should not have failed when the ship's main power had been taken offline - flickered then faded, as if the circuits had shorted out. A treatment chair sat just off-center in the space of the room, and in that chair...

Eli rose to his full height. It wasn't much, both the Grysks and the Chiss were taller than him on average. He stepped briskly into the room, motioning with his body for Vah'nya to join him.

"Thrawn." Eli called, keeping his voice even. Everything inside him felt like screaming. He'd expected this. He knew they would find something like this but-

The Chiss's eyes were glazed, half open and barely blinking. Interrogation drugs. Eli knew the signs. Thrawn's head was tilted to the side, unfocused eyes looking at another door to Eli's left and Thrawn's right, the hydraulic mechanism faulted, shuttering to try and open or close with no avail. The door remained a third of the way open, hanging over the threshold by nearly a meter and flexing like a broken valve. The lights flickered on the other side of it. Eli saw the bodies, at least two of them, sprawled across the floor.

"Un'hee," Thrawn said hoarsely. He allowed his head to loll back against the chair's headrest, which in turn let them make eye contact. Red eyes darkened in recognition, then suspicion, though they did not narrow like they usually would. He said nothing, no doubt concerned he was hallucinating.

"I'll get her," Eli said to Thrawn, then turned to Vah'nya. Her gaze was stuck on the malfunctioning door, concern evident in the way her forehead wrinkled. "Vah'nya."

The Navigator blinked, then refocused on Eli.

"Focus," He admonished, gentle but firm. "Hit him with a hypo, then get him unstrapped. Chiss metabolism is-"

"Faster than yours so he should bounce back fast. Right," She said, posture a bit more relaxed than it had been a moment earlier. Then, better, "Okay, Eli."

He graced her with a tight smile, holstering his blaster before removing his belt and all its trappings entirely, weapons included. "Thank you. Try the comms once you get him up. Bridge team should be in position shortly if they haven’t already engaged."

"Eli-" Her voice was cautious, tentative.

"I know," He interrupted, using his shoulder to lift the top half of the door mechanism back into its sheath in the framework. Once it began to feed upwards manually, he used his hands to push it open the rest of the way. "It's okay."

He heard the clack of the binding straps used to keep Thrawn in place clatter against the chair, but tuned it out. His task to get the door open was little more than a few seconds of physical exertion. The smell hit him first, the treatment room’s filters malfunctioning much like the rest of the room’s equipment. There was static from the monitors that should have been monitoring vital signs, a fuzzy drone that seemed impossible to hear for the loudness of the silence.

Two Chiss and a Grysk, all of them male, lay on the floor, eyes open but unseeing in death. Fern-like patterns, black against the blue skin of the Chiss’s faces told the tale of a deadly current that had traversed through their nervous system and vital organs before dispersing amid the durasteel deck plates. Death might have been swift, or it might not. For the Grysk, however, death had likely been instant, wrapped as it was in half bludgeoned metal armor. 

Even so, Eli confirmed the three to be dead before approaching a smaller, raised chair. He pitched his voice low, taking in the girl’s condition. “Un’hee,” He breathed.

Her eyes had rolled back into her skull, though her lashes fluttered when he called. Her lips formed intelligible words without sound, and he watched as her fingers twitched. He could not touch her yet. He had made that mistake before, with the Navigator in the next room, who spoke softly to Thrawn. He had to be patient.

“We’re going to get you out of here, Un’hee,” He promised, careful to speak to her from the side, to keep his voice quiet but even, just loud enough to be recognized. “You did well,” He promised. “It’s going to be alright now.”

He began with her legs, snapping the braces that kept them from kicking, then went to her left side and began undoing the thick straps, talking her through each action he took to free her.. When he moved to the right, unfastened the last restraint, and still she hadn’t reacted, he exhaled slowly and braced himself. Sharply, he barked, “Navigator!”

Her back arched like it was a string pulled taut and cut loose, and a gurgling scream left her throat, jagged and sharp. Eli heard a sound in the room behind him, the shuffle of Thrawn and Un’hee moving, the hiss-click of a hypo being injected into his fellow captain’s skin. “Stay there,” He called back to them, before either got any brilliant ideas and tried to intervene. “I’ve got this.”

When the young Navigator slumped back against the chair, Eli took a chance and reached out, smoothing back sweat-soaked hair from her forehead. Her usual braided hairstyle had come undone from thrashing against her restraints. “Un’hee, it’s Eli. I need you to look at me.”

It took a moment for the words to reach her. Her eyes closed and stayed that way for fifteen seconds, her fingers clenching and unclenching, her entire body tensing up. Then, carefully, she peeled one eye open and managed to find him with a tired gaze.

“E-eli?”

“There’s my girl,” He praised. “You did so well.”

She groaned, her eyes falling shut. “I-” She rasped, chest shaking with each breath. “I didn’t mean to-” She began, breathless. “But I was so afraid, and so _angry..._ and I-”

“I know,” He said. “It’s alright.”

“They were going to-”

“I know,” Eli agreed. She let that single eye open again, and he inclined his head. “You know I do,” He pressed, and she did know.

“I can’t stop smelling it,” She admitted guiltily, teeth chattering. She curled in on herself, overwhelmed but pushed past the ability to cry, “Like rotten meat-”

“It’s over,” He said, shushing her. “I’ve got you.” And he did. He knew what she needed.

Quickly, he reached for his chestplate and unsnapped the clasps of the armor, letting it clatter to the floor before he reached for the outer layer of his tunic and ripped the sealing strips apart. The tight, energy absorbing, and thickly weaved cloth would be too oppressive for his objective and had likely taken on some of the stench of the room. His undershirt, however, would smell like the cleanser he used, standard issue aboard the _Steadfast_ , some fresh scent. The outer shell of his tunic landed somewhere behind Un’hee on the floor and then Ivant was untucking his black undershirt from his waistband and yanking it over his head. The soft material ripped easily when he pulled it, and while it wouldn’t be perfect, wrapped widthwise, he could wrap the navigator from the torso up. It would suit their purposes.

This method of Somnia was one they’d only read about. A field technique for when a Navigator needed to be carried or would otherwise be endangered by drifting too far into unawareness. It had been written about as some outdated relic generations upon generations ago. Now, it was the only method that would be of any use to the brave and overtaxed child before him. She would be protected, but she would still retain some measure of control.

“Put your hands up against your heart,” He instructed her. Her lips trembled as she struggled to follow. When she complied, he praised her softly. “Good work. Do you remember what comes next?”

She tipped her head back, but her eyes remained closed, any stimuli too extraneous for her to tolerate in this state. It was enough of an acknowledgement.

Still, he explained, “I’m going to wrap it around your back first, around to the front. That way when you come back to yourself, you won’t be trapped.” He lined up the shirt so that the remaining seam matched her spine, draping over the top half of her face, then brought the side pieces around her like a robe, careful not to pull it too taut over her face, lest she feel suffocated. Once the wrap was basically in place, he gently tucked the ends of each piece of material under her arms at the elbow and twisted the ends into her hands. 

“There we go,” Eli said, once confident that the wrapping around the Navigator was secure. “Now you can rest, Navigator,” He soothed, voice holding a sway that could not be denied. “We’ve got it from here.”

He left her in the chair only as long as it took to retrieve his tunic and armor from where he’d discarded it. Redressing quickly, he retrieved the Navigator, taking care to pick her up without jostling her. The girl was dead weight in his arms, limp and unaware. Even so, he could feel the strong, steady beat of her heart with the hand bracing her back. All she needed now was time. 

Vah'nya waited impatiently under the guise of checking consoles and cabinets for anything useful. Thrawn remained seated where they had found him. He looked better, but the stim-laced hypo would take some time to eat through whatever contaminants were in his system, regardless of his superior metabolism. Eli took stock of them both as he stepped sideways through the doorway, mindful of Un’hee. 

“Comms up?” He asked.

The Senior Navigator shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Doesn’t really matter to us,” Eli admitted. “First order of business is getting out of here before someone realizes something happened to their friends.” He cast his chin in the direction of the door he’d come through.

“They’re dead,” Vah’nya stated. “Did she-?”

“Yeah,” Eli said. Thrawn didn’t question it, leaving him to wonder just how bad off the other Chiss was. “Didn’t surprise me.”

“I sensed more fear than anything,” The Senior Navigator admitted. “It makes sense.”

He couldn’t contest that, so instead he tipped his chin to indicate Un’hee. “Take her? I don’t think she’s harmed, just overwhelmed.”

Vah’nya agreed, and Un’hee didn’t react to the transfer any more than either of them expected. Still, the elder Navigator still took a moment to hold the girl close. Eli’s smile was fond but with a measure of discomfort, he could feel his jaw clenching with the effort.

He turned to Thrawn. “Alright?” Asked Eli, the infliction of his tone stern, requiring an immediate answer.

The Chiss nodded, but barely lifted his head. Eli doubted he was avoiding eye contact on purpose, but wouldn’t that have been something. “The hypo has negated a majority of the effects from my captors’ treatment.”

“Think you can walk?”

Thrawn grunted an affirmative and moved to stand. Eli caught him by the elbows when his knees betrayed him. “Yeah,” Eli said, “Alright.” He sounded more than a little resigned, “Might need a little longer than three minutes to really take the edge off. Since we don’t have that, you’re gonna have to work with me.” In another life, he could almost hear himself adding the honorific to the end. He ducked under Thrawn’s left arm, limp at his side and slung it around his shoulders, Eli’s right arm barring across his lower back and his hand resting on the Chiss’s hip.

Experimentally, they took a few steps forward. Eli made no comment about how much of Thrawn’s weight he was actually supporting, though it was certainly most of it. He motioned for Vah'nya to follow them - a twitch of his fingers from his left hand, still at his side - then let it rest on his blaster, quietly shucking it from its holter at his waist.

“Are you not furious with me?” Thrawn murmured when they’d made it out into an empty corridor. His head hung slightly forward, jaw level with Eli's temple.

Eyes widening and resisting the urge to groan, Eli seethed, “Of course I am. Once we make it out of here, you and I are going to have words.”

It had taken a few more moments of awkward shuffling in silence, but Thrawn must have come back to himself quickly. The Chiss was quick to attempt to extricate himself from Eli's hold. Eli couldn't help but hope that it might have had at least something to do with his simmering anger regarding their _interaction_ in the hangar bay. There was nothing to be done for it now, though. The deck plates rattled ominously and pitched as the deflector shield did its job. Eli held onto Thrawn just a little bit longer, just to be sure.

The comm at his waist crackled. "Shields holding at ninety-two percent." The speaker was familiar.

Eli swapped his weapon for the communication device. "Copy. Are you clear?"

"Affirmative," Came the crisp voice of the team lead that had been assigned to the ship's core. "Encryption on our end is secure." Then, with more personality to their tone, the tech continued, "It was a rush job. Sloppy."

"The crew must have put up more of a fight than they anticipated," Eli speculated. "Any word from the bridge team?"

"Negative."

Eli considered for only a second before responding, "Proceed as planned. Hold the engine and shields. Keep me apprised of any developments."

"Copy, Captain. Standing by." The comm hissed static then went silent. Vah'nya looked at Eli. "Your thoughts?" He asked her.

Thrawn blinked at her, then tilted his head back down and to the left to see Eli in his periphery. He hadn’t tried to pull away again. Eli wondered if he found it odd, these teaching moments where Eli felt like he channeled Thrawn the most. "They're separating sections of the ship with short-range jammers."

"Good. What else?"

"The enemy should still believe that all is well since they’re jamming communications. It wouldn’t make sense for them to fire upon the _Compass_." Vah'nya looked out one of the many tiny viewports lining the corridor. She saw the _Steadfast_ , polished and sleek against the blackness of space. Her lips thinned as she regarded the vessel. 

Eli raised his eyebrows, an indication for her to puzzle it out, to follow the line of reasoning.

"Why would Admiral Ar'alani fire upon us?" She asked, and Eli didn't correct her, which meant he agreed with her speculation as to the source. "If the enemy disabled our shields-"

"She is confirming which faction is at the helm," Thrawn interrupted, sounding more in-control than he had, then rebuked Eli, "There is little time for this," He said.

The human shrugged, biting back the smart reply about how glad he was Thrawn was feeling more like himself. He was glad, but the relief only drew attention to his anger at the moment. And he was angry, he thought. Downright furious. He was absolutely livid at Thrawn for not even allowing him to respond before - well, he may not have been the one to stun Eli, but Eli knew intent when he saw it. Thrawn would have done what he’d had to.

When he spoke, however, he betrayed none of it. "Practical experience is invaluable, pretty sure you were the one who taught me that."

"I hardly put you in danger."

"One word," Eli refuted. "Nightswan."

"That is a name."

“Fine.” Eli didn't rise to Thrawn's bait, while Thrawn had landed himself squarely in Eli's trap. "I'll raise you another: Horatio Figg."

Thrawn inclined his head. When he pulled away again, Eli let him go.

Before they continued, Vah’nya indicated her blaster with a shift of her stance. “Take it, Captain. I cannot carry Un’hee and shoot.”

Thrawn was contemplative. He did not make a move to relieve her of her weapon. “Perhaps I should carry her, Navigator Vah’nya. I am confident in my ability to move, but I do not wish to endanger us with potentially compromised aim.”

It took a moment for Vah’nya to consider it. Eli didn’t blame her, but she sized Thrawn up for several seconds, and found whatever she saw in his gaze to be acceptable. “Don’t jostle her too much,” She warned.

Thrawn eyed Un'hee guardedly, no doubt feeling responsible for her status. "She is too warm for Somnia to be effective," He said.

Normally Somnia required a colder environment. They didn't have that option, but then again, it didn’t matter with this version of it. "I doubt you've utilized this technique before," Vah'nya guessed, keeping her tone polite as she raised her weapon to follow Eli down the dim hallway. "It is not as deep."

"That does not sound as useful as the standard technique."

"She's trained in this method," Eli returned, voice brokering no argument. "But your concern is noted."

"It's almost like Bridger's meditation," Vah'nya admitted, softer in the quiet of the dark corridor. "Perhaps someday we could rely on those practices instead of more complete sensory deprivation," She considered, but this time she most assuredly spoke to Eli.

There was a spark to his eye, something calculating and sharp, as if weighing possibilities. Which, he was. Anything was possible. “I don’t doubt it,” Eli replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: It has to be a Chiss.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has to be a Chiss.

Eli - Vanto had a right to his anger, Thrawn thought, but that was as much as he was willing to let himself linger on the subject at the moment. He followed dutifully behind Vah’nya and Vanto, taking care to check over his shoulder to confirm that they were not followed through the ship. The duo moved like they were two halves of a single entity. He had never seen them work together in hostile situations beyond the bridge of a warship, and even then a Navigator’s role was limited in situations that did not require immediate departure or swift, flawlessly executed arrival.

“The control room is on your right,” Vanto said, and Vah’nya gripped her blaster tighter.

They were after the prisoners - the loyal Chiss aboard the _Compass_ who had been detained and not murdered. There probably weren't many, only those of high political value would have been spared from the immediate slaughter once the Grysks arrived. Besides, the enemy had already murdered a Navigator simply to prove a point. Those who did not have the gift of sight could not expect any mercy.

Their main objective at this stage was to locate and secure Senior Captain Khresh. Both Vanto and Vah’nya were rather hopeful that the man was still alive. Thrawn found that unlikely, but he would reserve judgement. They had not shared the details of their plan, but it was clear that there was a plan in play. He no longer felt the effects of the chemical concoction he’d been dosed with, no doubt in part to his biology, but also the stimulant that Vah’nya had administered. However, it was possible he’d been appraised of their plan and been unable to retain the information before the other effects of the hypo had kicked in. Some of his short-term memory remained out of his grasp, hazed and disjointed. He remembered being found, Vah’nya’s too-cold hands on his face and her lips moving as she assessed his status, but there were moments that eluded him. 

The entry panel beside the door was red, locked down. Vah'nya slapped her hand to the biometric panel and it flashed, then opened to her unique signature. It shouldn't have, Thrawn knew.

"Thorough," Eli drawled sarcastically, lending voice to Thrawn's thoughts, though Thrawn never would have commented aloud. His fellow Captain then inclined his head to indicate Thrawn should follow Vah'nya in. A wise defensive position, with Thrawn carrying Un'hee and not able to assist much in combat.

He obeyed the silent command. Eli shut them in the small room. Thrawn could hear his footsteps from the other side of the door, but turned back to Vah'nya. "They will be able to see who accessed the terminal on the bridge," Said Thrawn. “We will not have much time.”

"That is fine," Said Vah'nya, voice hard. “Only the first half of this plan was intended to be a stealth mission.” She pulled her comm from her belt once certain the room was secure. It was silent, but blinked to indicate the receipt of an incoming transmission. 

Vah'nya investigated the terminal datascreens while her fingers flew across the console, searching for information. "I'm in," She said after a moment. "Standing by."

The channel remained silent for four seconds, before ambient sound came over the comms. The antechamber leading into the cellblock opened and closed swiftly. The subsequent blaster fire was crisp and loud, the end of the bolts giving the indication that the cartridge was nearly empty. In his grip, Thrawn felt Un’hee stir, her shoulders curling in before she relaxed again, head still limp against his collarbone.

 _“Open cells twenty-two and twenty-four,”_ Vanto ordered tersely.

Vah’nya entered the command into the terminal. “Do you need backup?” She asked.

 _“Negative,”_ He said, voice softer. _“I have five crew members.”_

“Injuries?”

 _“Nothing life threatening,”_ He confirmed.

“Only five?” Vah’nya’s voice rose sharply as she queued up the cell feed. She flinched away from them almost immediately. Looking over her shoulder, Thrawn saw what she had and could hardly blame the young woman for looking away, regardless of her military indoctrination. It was a gruesome sight. Typical, but wasteful. Unforgivable.

Eli’s voice was tight. “ _Yeah,”_ He said. _“Coming back to you now.”_

“And Senior Captain Khresh?”

 _“They took him and the remaining Navigator to the bridge,”_ Came a quaking male voice in the vicinity of the comms device. It was not Vanto.

The edge to Vah’nya’s voice could not be missed. Even though she could hear the sound of the antechamber doors being activated without the use of her comm, she thumbed the device anyway. “Navigator… _singular?_ ”

“The other three have been terminated,” Eli confirmed, opening the door to reveal the small party of rescued prisoners. He was thumbing at a pockmark from a blaster bolt that had hit his chest armor, looking displeased. His left arm had taken a glancing blow, but he paid it little mind, so Vah’nya figured it likely singed his tunic more than it had damaged him. “Navigator Ve’hikri was the first, as Thrawn confirmed. The other two,” He trailed off, listening to another voice behind him that was too quiet for Thrawn to hear from a distance. “Were also murdered to prove a point, supposedly. I suspect they were systematically executing whomever they had left.”

“Who remains?”

“Ke’hala,” Eli said gravely. “They need a Navigator to steer the ship if they plan to take it. The younger the better.” Ke’hala was barely seven years old. Thrawn considered the child in his arms, who had been taken even younger. It was predatory. It was _unacceptable._

“Why waste the resources?” Asked one of the rescued crewmen. “Why would our own be so heartless as to slaughter their own?”

Eli did not smile as he deferred to Va’hnya. The Navigator’s back remained straight, and her eyes were vivid in an ethereal way - with barely concealed emotion, so out of place for a Chiss, and even more so for a Navigator. She only met the human’s gaze for the briefest of seconds before she took point.

“We need to rethink what we know about our enemy,” She said, stepping out of the control room and into the hall. “These are not Scratchlings or some ambiguous client race. They are enslaving _our_ warriors. They are morphing their perceptions and turning them against their own.” Vah’nya’s gaze was cold, chilled with fury and determination. “They have forgotten what it means to be a Chiss,” She said. “And it is up to us to remind them.”

While Vah’nya stoked the fires of determination in their recovered allies, Eli pulled back to Thrawn’s position. He did not speak to Thrawn, but he did check on Un’hee, who seemed to respond to his hand on her head, twitching as if in a deep sleep.

“Bridge team, acknowledge,” He said. 

The static of the comm was bright for just under a minute then broke, the subsequent sounds violent and muzzy with battle. _“Acknowledged,_ ” Ezra’s voice came. He was out of breath. _“A bit busy here.”_

“Have you made it to the bridge?”

 _“We’re working on it,”_ The Jedi hissed. The sound of blaster fire was loud, and it took Bridger a moment to continue. _“We could use some help.”_

“We’re coming your way now. Do you have eyes on their Commander or Khresh?”

 _“They’re on the bridge,”_ A Chiss voice called from the other side of the comm. The voice was female. _“I heard them talking to Senior Captain Khresh, but we can’t get through the blast door. Enemy forces are… significant. We’ve lost two.”_

“Stay strong. We’ll be there as soon as we can. Ivant out.”

After he pocketed his comm, he looked up at Thrawn. “Trade you,” He began, offering Thrawn his blaster with one hand, motioning to Un’hee with the other. “We need to take the bridge.” His voice dipped lower. “My gut says Khresh is still alive, probably to keep Navigator Ke'hala compliant. I don't know how long that will last with us mounting an offensive.”

“Your assessment is likely correct,” Thrawn acknowledged. It was the most likely course, assuming that both Khresh and Ke’hala were alive. “However, switching roles is unnecessary. You are capable of leading this offensive. They are anticipating you.”

If Vanto was surprised that Thrawn had seen through his plans, he gave little indication. "Perhaps I could," Eli supposed. He met Thrawn's eyes with all the seriousness of a senior commander. A leader. The intensity of it lit up places deep inside Thrawn that he dared not name. "But it needs to be you."

-/

In battle, the plans drafted before the battle so rarely made it to the end without serious revision, if they were not discarded entirely. Commanders who saw fit rely on an unchangeable script were easily defeated. Commanders who could not adapt often crumbled under the weight of their indecision or doubt. Only those who anticipated and reacted dynamically tended to survive battle, though even then, the odds of survival were never absolute.

The Grysks were intelligent. Their hierarchy, while still unknown for the most part, had roles. The grunts - an amalgamation of low class officers - were likely low in whatever social caste made up their society. They were trained to die with honor, to take their own lives rather than be taken prisoner or probed for information. They held only scraps of information. For while the Grysk coveted other species, asserting their claim and injecting themselves into the hearts and minds of their clients, the practice had to originate from somewhere. 

Within.

Their commanders subjugated both client and lesser Grysk alike. Those who were lesser rarely noticed for how deeply they were entrenched. This was a strength - their leadership was absolute when facing an enemy. Commanders had never been reported in pairs.

It was also a devastating weakness.

Vah'nya hadn't been the one to figure it out. Eli had told her, their fingers interlocked between them, her face pressed against his shoulder. He'd mouthed his suspicions in the quietest voice possible, speaking around tremors he couldn't control, his back slick with blood from a round of torture Vah'nya had been forced to watch. It had been the tactic of an interrogation for information she had never known.

Eli had always been brilliant like that, understatedly so. Now, with Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo on their side, Vah'nya could see how he had learned, the way the more senior captain's lessons had translated into something more, taking into account his strengths and bolstering his weak points. It was intriguing. She saw similarities in his tutelage of her, though he’d done more than copy his former mentor. Eli had made Thrawn’s lessons his own.

Going for subtlety, Vah’nya angled herself toward Ivant and Thrawn. They were conversing softly, and looked like they had been for a few moments now. She didn’t dare interrupt just yet.

"I abandoned my post aboard the _Steadfast_ ," Thrawn was saying, some part of a greater conversation Vah'nya had not been privy to. She had been checking over the rescued crew, confirming that none required intervention. They hadn't. “And what I did, after,” The Chiss met his gaze, with a look that Vah’nya considered nearly apologetic. What happened in the hangar, then. “My actions are not those of a commander one should follow.”

Eli shrugged. "I have known you-” He broke off to emphasize, “Who you _really_ are, for a while now," Ivant said. "I know why you did it," He continued, so sure that Vah'nya swore she could feel the truth of it. His lips quirked upward, the stormy irritation beginning to clear in his eyes. “I know you just wanted to prevent anyone else from getting hurt, but you would have hurt us anyway because we care about you. _I_ care. If you think-” The intensity of his own sincerity seemed to give him pause. Eli let the emotion wash over him, then regrouped, shaking his head. “So long as I’m around, you’ll never be alone. I’m tired of chasing after you, so stop leavin’ me behind.”

Thrawn's expression was similarly sincere, but equally as serious. He gave a deep, fluid nod as if making a vow. 

Reaching around to cup the back of Thrawn’s neck, Eli deftly retrieved the tracker he’d placed on the other man aboard the _Steadfast_ and held it out on the tip of his finger, showing Thrawn the nearly invisible, tiny beacon. 

The other captain frowned at first. When he recognized it, his shoulders eased. “You are serious," He said. He did not gesture between them, but Eli seemed to catch his meaning. After all this. After the secrets, and the betrayal and the way he’d picked up the pieces only to throw it all away again.

"I just said I was tired of chasing after you," Eli said, giving the other man a small smile. “You and I both know we're better as a team.” His confidence was radiant and honest. He was like a sun, drawing Thrawn to revolve around him if only to bask in a piece of that light. 

Beyond them, the comms crackled, their rescued crew talked quietly amongst themselves. The moment broke.

“But this isn’t about you and me,” Eli admitted. “Our people need you now. They need you to lead them to victory. To show their misguided brothers and sisters that a warrior of the Chiss Ascendancy is capable of.”

"And you?"

Earnestly, Eli asserted, "I'll have your back, every step of the way."

Thrawn smiled then. Not with the gleaming machinations of a master tactician, not the seriousness of a military commander. This was something different. Something that to the outsider might not have seemed much like a smile at all, but for the tiniest uptick of lips. 

And yet.

Vah'nya felt the shift in Thrawn, like a tangle inside him shook loose, the conflict fading away. He straightened, and it was unlike anything she'd seen in him before. Like the weight he'd carried, the shadowy edge of grief and self incrimination, maybe even doubt dissipated. 

He was not looking backwards any longer, Vah'nya realized. He'd come to terms with what he had done and who he had been, and these were his first steps coming out on the other side. 

There was no hesitation as Thrawn placed Un'hee in Ivant's arms. She watched their hands catch on each other, the quick tangle and tender squeeze of fingers before Thrawn stepped back. The other Chiss’s gaze swept to her, likely displeased that she had been eavesdropping on their conversation. Ivant's eyes were bright though, and she had no doubt that Thrawn, though far more stoic, felt the same. 

They had hope. She could feel its currents like a brisk wind, new and electric and bright.

Vah'nya had often wondered how it would be to have both of them teaching her sisters, helping them in tandem to find themselves and their way forward amidst the many perils of the galaxy. To have Thrawn sharpen their minds and Ivant illuminate the connection between their minds and their hearts. Here and now, she knew the seeds of that goal- Ivant's master plan - had been planted.

It would not make what they had to do any easier, but the way forward was clear.

Thrawn waded through the room and out into the corridor, taking stock of their meager troops. Vah’nya followed but Ivant remained back, probably to assert that Thrawn was in control. It didn’t last more than a minute, though. Thrawn’s piercing eyes only had to narrow upon him for Ivant to realize Thrawn wished him to be at his side, regardless of what their troops took the statement to mean. 

Vah'nya inclined her head to Thrawn as Ivant approached. Ivant dipped his chin in silent approval. He wasn't the only one who had learned, she thought, but held her tongue. Instead, she asked, "Your orders, Captain Thrawn?"

-/

Eli had only been allowed to stay back for as long as it took Thrawn assess their additions. The pointed gaze he’d been given made him pause. Thrawn had really taken it to heart, what he’d said. He didn’t have time to think about how good that felt, not with Un’hee shifting in his grip as she wrestled her way back to consciousness. It hadn’t taken long for her to begin to resurface, though Eli suspected it wasn’t because she wanted to be alert. She was simply reacting to the situation’s demands. 

She would need to be monitored closely after this. Though, she did settle when Eli stood shoulder-to shoulder with Thrawn. Eli couldn’t help but be excited to see what Thrawn would do.

“I require information,” Thrawn said, addressing the rescued crew members. “Who executed these people?”

“It was a Grysk,” one of the males said. None of these crew members were anyone Eli knew, but Vah’nya had not tipped him off that they were untrustworthy. Her sense for that sort of thing had been growing. She’d learned from their previous mistakes not to take any chances when it came to what her instincts told her. “They had Chiss with them, but they did not fire.”

“Did they display any signs of disobedience?”

The crew member, a lieutenant by the look of him, shrugged. “Not especially. They just seemed… flat. Soulless.”

Thrawn considered for only a fraction of a second. "I do not desire any loss of life, especially that of a Chiss. However, those Chiss wearing coveralls are our brethren no longer. I would prefer that you stun rather than use lethal force, but do not hesitate to do what must be done."

“And the Grysks?”

Vah’nya fixed Thrawn with a look, a regal confident expression from out of the corner of her eyes, and as if magnetized, he met almost immediately. “Leave any Grysks to me,” She said, handing one of the crew members her weapon. That contradiction - disarming herself willingly, while claiming she’d be capable of handling the enemy - gave Thrawn pause. The Senior Navigator continued, “I can see them in ways you cannot. Please allow me to guide you.”

Thrawn didn’t like the idea, though. It wasn’t that the entire thing was unorthodox, Thrawn never quite cared for tradition. He turned to Eli for his consideration, and was given a confident nod. “Navigator Vah’nya is more than capable of bringing them down. She and Navigator Un’hee have been capable of killing Grysks while seemingly unarmed.” Ivant regarded him, asking for trust that had long since been earned. 

He’d put it together, Eli knew. Thrawn’s gaze left him and settled on a still-incoherent Un’hee. “Our captors,” Thrawn suspected.

“I will show you. There are not many more between us and our destination, but we will not make it to the bridge without at least one altercation,” Vah’nya said. Then, she addressed the group with conviction. “Allow me to show you what a Navigator is meant to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation aboard the _Compass_ reaches its peak.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: The confrontation aboard the _Compass_ reaches its peak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the interest of pacing (and providing you with a timely update), looks like there'll be another chapter, then the epilogue (subject to change... again). I'm still aiming for this to be concluded by September 1st, but I won't cut corners. If it takes longer, so be it. That being said, I've got most of the details finalized, I just need to write it out.

When confrontation arose, Vah'nya danced through it. She'd seen it coming, her Sight strong and sure, leaving her aware of her enemy long before it had ever laid eyes upon her. There was a tempo, a rhythm to the altercation that only she knew. 

The Grysk was easily four times her weight in their armor, dwarfing her thin frame in width though they were only slightly taller than her in height. They swung at her menacingly, but she saw the move before it happened, ducking under a thick arm to slip both behind and further away.

As her enemy staggered forward empty-handed, bending awkwardly to keep their balance as the deckplates beneath them rumbled and shifted from external plasmasphere impact, Vah'nya spun to face their back and extended her hands. The Grysk spun around as well, putting their back to the rest of their enemies, but it was too late. As if seeing the space between atoms, she charged the air with elemental energy. Ions rearranged themselves and the bolts that coalesced in the expanse between them glowed a searing blue- white, crackling ominously with contact.

Vah’nya’s foe dropped, their body seizing with electricity that ricocheted through the gaps in metal armor. It was a force of nature, a seemingly unnatural thing, and yet the Navigator glowed in its wake. Her skin held a healthy, cerulean-cream shine, her eyes were sharp and ethereal: cognizant of what she'd done, but aware that protecting the lives of her people had been far more important.

Un'hee hadn't needed to see it. Not with her eyes. She could see it in her mind, feel the way Vah'nya's spirit sang as she moved, the absolute sureness of her actions. She understood that there was more to it than sight. More to it than _the_ Sight, in any form. 

Vah'nya had instilled sureness, had always led by example. Un'hee might bicker with her ceaselessly, but they were sister-Navigators, and Un'hee could admit her admiration and awe. She should have known that she would not be the first.

She was relieved, if she were to be honest with herself. And that relief felt refreshing, awakening. This great and terrifying power she had discovered was not just her own. All of their sisters could be capable of this. And like she had been shown, after she had seen the way to help save Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Vah'nya would again guide her. Guide them all.

Eli, too. She could feel his heartbeat, muted through his armor, but steady: like a wardrum within his chest. He was calm. This was no surprise.

Of course, she thought. Because Eli had known as long as Vah’nya had. And, more than Vah’nya, Eli knew- No. That line of thought wasn't important, she told herself. What had happened was over now. He had recovered. They both had, and they were here now, fighting. 

She could fight, too. 

They needed her. Though Eli and Vah'nya were calm, they were the only ones. She sensed panic and fear like a tangible thing. Awe and terror, pride and uncertainty, all of it so very unsure. They had found others, she realized. She, Eli, and Vah’nya were not alone.

Had they found-?

Her memory, momentarily fragmented, disoriented by the subconscious use of her Sight, returned to her swiftly. Eli had helped her. She remembered him triggering Somnia, remembered him saying it was alright, but she needed to know. She needed to see for herself. She wouldn’t forgive herself for killing them, not even for killing the Grysk if it hadn’t been enough to save Thrawn, too.

"Thrawn," She called to him quietly, voice hoarse and dry from disuse and unconsciousness. They couldn’t hear her over the sounds of the dying Grysk and awed Chiss. They must have rescued others, though not many. Strange, it felt so loud to her while everything else was still so muted. She considered that it might be Eli. His close presence was soothing, enough to lull her back to a comfortable state of half-wakefulness, but she needed to come back now.

The thin black material - some synthweave blend that was soft to the touch - was balled in her hands. It took effort to twitch them, to force her tightly curled fists to relent. They did. She focused, looking for Thrawn without her eyes.

He was near to her - to them. Close enough to touch. In the space between awake and unconscious, she sensed his… Apprehension. Acknowledgement. A fear that was almost reverent. Something warily respectful.

Thrawn had seen this before, Un’hee remembered. It was not entirely the same - she’d heard the story of the creature he’d shot down from the sky, a being who called upon a great and terrible storm that did not distinguish between friend and foe - and yet it was. She felt him tense, closing himself off, and twitched again in Eli’s hold like an answer. Thrawn didn’t notice.

But Eli had. She carefully peeled back her covering, finding the halls of the _Compass_ to be darker than she expected. Eli’s tan-skinned features were awash in the ambient glow. His lips curved into a half smile when he met her gaze. She could see the relief war with worry and anger. No doubt she was in trouble with him. She didn’t care right now, squirming, seeing fit to tell him so-

The human didn’t coddle her though. His expression - those deep, dark expressive eyes - showed understanding that outweighed his emotions. He eased her to the ground, assuring himself she was able to support her own weight before letting go. 

Eli’s emotions were important, yes, but she had more pressing concerns in that moment. She took a wobbly step to the side and slipped her much smaller hand into Thrawn’s loose fist, half-clenched at his side. Her cold fingers uncurled against his palm, seeking purchase. He did not flinch. His fingers clasped hers in a gentle squeeze before relaxing, but to her surprise, he did not let go.

She looked up to him as he looked down at her, as stern and stoic as she’d remembered the first time they’d met. His eyes were different now. It was as though there was some shroud had been pulled back, though he was no easier to read this way. He felt worried, yes - she could imagine what he’d seen in his mind’s eye watching Vah’nya vanquish their shared enemy - but beneath that, there was something else. He felt balanced now. Balanced I'm no a way that someone didn’t know they could be until they achieved it. It wasn’t feigned or forced out of some sense of duty. It just _was_.

Un’hee was pulled from her thoughts by Vah’nya. Vah’nya, who refused to acknowledge her quarry beyond confirming it no longer drew breath. She rose to her feet and stepped around gangly, still-twitching limbs and immediately crouched in front of the young girl.

“What were you thinking?” The Senior Navigator bellowed. “You could have been killed!”

“I had to,” Un’hee said, pushing out her chin, her tone increasing in pitch with every word. “I knew I had to just like you. They would have killed him, and I-”

“Not now,” Ivant cut in, extending both his hands in a placating gesture toward the enraged woman. Un’hee couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen true fury in Vah’nya’s eyes. She barely kept it in check, but Un’hee knew fury was easier to channel than fear. Fear would drown them, if they let it. “Later. Mission first.”

Thrawn’s fingers tightened around Un'hee's hand again briefly before he let go. If he was concerned that she stayed all but leaning against him for the moment, he said nothing. She watched him meet Eli’s gaze over her head, saw the way they spoke without words in the two seconds that passed.

To Vah’nya, he began, “Are you able to call upon this... lightning,” He didn't stumble over the word, but the pause was obvious to Un’hee, “On demand?” That rerouted the conversation, the tension, all of it, in a matter of seconds.

Vah’nya pushed a flyaway piece of blue-black hair behind her ear and settled back into the coolness of militant discipline. She explained, “Yes, though truly controlling it is another story. I can see the paths it can take, but it is not a foolproof thing.”

Un’hee only realized that Eli had moved from beside them when she heard the clanging thud of the Grysk’s body being rolled over with his boot. He took a knee and inspected the corpse. Un'hee's forced herself not to look away. She'd done this, too. “It works just fine in close range, and when you focus,” Eli clarified.

Vah’nya inclined her head. "True, but ultimately it is more of a destructive power. It cannot manipulate fragile electronics."

Eli muttered something unintelligible. Not so loudly as to interrupt their exchange entirely, though he did draw Thrawn's sharp gaze. Eli didn't speak up or voice his opinion to the group, so the conversation moved on.

“And I would not not ask it of you,” Thrawn affirmed, shifting his gaze back to her. “But I would ask you to take an alternative route to the bridge.” He considered, “I believe the way you traversed the ship without detection.”

“Not a bad plan if we have something ready on the other end,” Mused Eli, who confirmed Vah'nya's cooperation with a swift nod. Then he rose from beside the body and addressed Thrawn, making it clear that he was the leader, not Eli. Un'hee had wondered. “Another grunt," He said. "I don’t think there’s any high-ranking ones beside that commander who demanded your presence." He toed at the dead alien's armor. "Worst of all, there's nothing we can tie back to our people. We're flying blind on that end.”

"Perhaps," Thrawn considered. “Their liaison with our people is too new for them to rely on a single individual or reveal their cards entirely. Subjugation was hardly their goal in this venture, nor was returning me to Emperor Palpatine, though both would undoubtedly be useful to their cause.”

“You’re right,” Eli agreed. He did not hide his anger now, Un’hee noticed. It was smooth and slick and mostly unfamiliar to her. She knew he did his best to mask his temper, especially with her sisters, and thus was not used to seeing it so close to the surface. “They’re just doing this to show they can. To show how deep they’ve inserted their influence.”

“It will not be tolerated,” Thrawn swore, like a vow. Un’hee believed him. His disdain curled like a predator beneath his skin, though she did not fear the violence he'd bring. Unlike their enemies, his anger and Eli's had a sharp edge. They cared little for conquest. They were driven by their desire to protect.

-/

There was only one way onto the bridge. As such, it had been a no-nonsense, straightforward approach. It has been an offensive that started as stealth, making as little noise as possible, then turned into an all-out assault as they reached the last stretch and passed the point of no return. 

Ezra had been surprised by the amount of resistance, and even more surprised by the number of drab-looking Chiss that fought with the same cold fury that his own allies did. They had passed several Grysks that were not the commander. Ezra's allies had keen eyes, but through the Force he had sensed a sort of blank servitude within them as well, so similar to the enemy Chiss forces. It was disturbing.

Even more disturbing was their present situation. Approaching the bridge head on - as was their only realistic option - had left them trapped between the majority of enemy forces aboard the _Compass_. Ahead of them, the larger contingent fired at them indiscriminately. Behind them, a slow trickle of support crept in to pick them off. Ezra tried his best to see them coming, but they were so flat and unobtrusive, in addition to that usual slippery feeling Chiss had in the Force.

The Chiss beside him, the small team who had suffered losses and were supposed to be better protected because they had his assistance, were tired. Ezra was tired too. They'd been in this killbox for a while now, their enemy just waiting for them to make a mistake. Though he didn't know them well enough to get a good read on them, they were far more open to him in the Force - accepting, perhaps - than their enemies. They were grateful for his intervention, albeit rattled by his abilities. They had never fought with a Jedi. And Ezra hadn't fought like this since he was a rebel and Thrawn his greatest enemy.

He clenched his fists. He missed his lightsaber and its protective hum. There was nothing for it now. He didn't need his lightsaber to be a Jedi.

Reaching out, he felt for the incoming blaster bolts that targeted his comrades and nudged them to the side. He felt something else, too. Something directly above him.

Vah'nya. 

She wasn't like Kanan or Ahsoka, wasn't like a Jedi at all. And yet, whenever he extended himself mentally, especially after they'd taken to meditating together on occasion, she always reached back. He wasn't sure if she knew she was doing it, but it didn't stop him from sending his own feelings - relief especially, that she seemed to be alright - her way.

She didn't answer. She could project emotion, any being could, but she couldn’t pointedly target him in the Force. It simply wasn’t like that for her. He shifted focus. Beside him, one of his allies paused, their eyes briefly pausing on the grate that covered the life-support's ventilation shaft over the enemy's head. Chiss could see in the infrared, Ezra knew. If there was someone up in that ductwork, they'd be obvious against the cool backdrop of silver-blue.

They couldn't draw attention to her, and he didn't dare mention that he suspected it was her aloud. Still, he had to do something. He raised his hand to jerk their enemies by their weapons, anything to keep their attention away from what was happening above them.

The first stun bolt nearly grazed his cheek. The coils of overwhelming energy expanded as they traveled over his shoulder, striking one of their assailants in the chin and dropping them with a strangled hiss of contact. More followed, sailing by him and his allies.

Footsteps followed and Ezra picked out at least five pairs of footsteps. “Set weapons to stun,” Called the familiar, authoritative voice and Ezra felt himself relax ever so slightly.

Beside him, one of his allies tipped their head to look behind them with hardly any concern for the rank of the one they spoke to. “Are you crazy, sir? They’re shooting to kill.” 

“Hardly,” Thrawn’s voice came again, as Ezra flicked the mechanism on his own blaster to follow Thrawn’s instructions. He grew louder with every word, the sharpness of his command tone leading one of his other allies to toggle the stun setting on their weapon as well. “If the need to take life arises, so be it. Now is not that time. There are enough of us to neutralize this offensive.”

The captain did not retreat into cover when the shots came again. Athletically, he dipped and side-stepped them. They were coming slower now, the enemy forces slightly dismayed by the development and weakened significantly with the first round of the newcomers’ incapacitations, but it didn’t detract from the skill the older Chiss exhibited amongst mostly younger comrades. He raised his blaster again and took out two with pointed stun bolts to the chest before they could lock onto their target’s quickly shifting position.

Ezra stepped out of the hatchway he’d been using as semi-decent cover and took a lower stance, firing in tandem as the rest of their forces fell in. The already accumulated forces stayed low, firing from their positions dotted along the hallway in similar doors and ancillary alcoves like Ezra had been while Thrawn’s people stayed predominantly in line of sight for their enemy, providing heavy rings of cover-fire.

Ezra let Thrawn step in front of him protectively as he dropped his depleted blaster pack and took the one Thrawn indicated on his belt. He recognized the weapon and its backup and had to ask, “Where’s Captain Ivant?”

“His portion of the plan is in motion.”

“Oh good,” Ezra breathed in relief, then added, “Hopefully it’s a better plan than your last one. No offense, but that one was kriffing stupid.”

Squeezing off another shot, then three more in quick succession, Thrawn said, “It is good to know you are uninjured as well.” It looked like he might have made another statement, or possibly asked a question about the status of their remaining troops as the battle began to turn in their favor, but his head swiveled quickly, his expression changing from one of untouchable stoicism to a stern frown.

“What?” Ezra scrambled to his feet. “I don’t like that look,” He said.

“The ship is moving.”

“Moving? How can you tell?”

Thrawn’s concentration was absolute, though he was still able to multitask. “I can tell.” He looked to their comrades. “They’re engaging the _Steadfast_. We must move quickly to retake the bridge.” He plucked a comm from his belt and brought it to his lips. “Navigator Vah’nya, do you have confirmation?”

The sound of the comm device was muffled and metallic sounding. “Confirmed. Proceed as planned.”

“Very good.” Thrawn stalked up to their defeated enemies. Most were dead, but there were still some who might be saved. Though he did not prefer casualties, Ezra could see the flare of his nostrils, the utter contempt he had for them. “Set up a defensive perimeter to the sides of the blast doors. They will explode outward. Drag any prisoners who are alive out of its direct path.”

The questions came quick, albeit with more respect than the original outburst. 

Thrawn confirmed his orders, “The Commander will not seek to harm themself, but those not sealed in with will be considered acceptable collateral. The doors will be rigged to damage any approaching forces in the event that the remaining crew attempted to thwart their plans.”

“I liked the Grysk better when they offed themselves before we got information,” The smart-mouthed woman who had sassed Thrawn earlier said. 

“Only the lower-level Grysk do that,” A quieter voice came. Ezra didn’t recognize the man, but judging by his bloodied, disheveled uniform, he’d already been aboard the _Compass_. “This one wants to live.”

“This one wishes to take this ship as a trophy and display our vulnerabilities, both on a military and personal level,” Thrawn corrected. “Whether he desires to live is irrelevant. Our duty is to regain control of our vessel and neutralize the insurgent threat.” He looked at the group. “Once the doors are blown, you will wait for Navigator Vah’nya’s signal to storm the bridge.”

“What signal?” Another of Ezra’s comrades asked.

“You’ll know,” Thrawn said darkly. 

Yes, Ezra supposed they would.

-/

Commander Faro jumped up from her console, already sending the communiqué to Admiral Ar’alani’s datapad and the _Steafast’s_ bridge speakers even as she spoke. “Admiral, I have Captain Ivant.”

“The encryption?”

“It’s secure, ma’am.”

The admiral whirled around from the command walkway to face her. “Send it through, Commander.”

“Sent,” Faro confirmed crisply.

Ar’alani barely heard her, focused on the man aboard her rogue capital ship. “Ivant,” She demanded.

_“Admiral. I have Un’hee in custody.”_

“And the others?”

 _“It’s a bloodbath,_ ” He said seriously, voice offset by static. _“Captain Thrawn was kept with Un’hee. At last check, the survivors indicated one navigator and Senior Captain Khresh were still alive.”_ He paused, breathing hard. He’d likely been running, Ar’alani suspected. They were all running out of time, both literally and figuratively, she supposed. _“Have you gotten anything from our friends?”_

It was a crude but inconspicuous way of asking if House Chaf had provided them with any information. She appreciated his discretion. “It is too soon,” She said tightly, then redirected, “I am more concerned with the field of battle. Your former ship is being brought to bear against mine.” Her annoyance was obvious.

_“Captain Thrawn is working on that.”_

“Captain Thrawn,” She said carefully. She knew his objective, but refused to satiate her curiosity on the subject. There were more pressing matters to be discussed. “And what are _you_ working on?”

_“Leveling the field.”_

Scoffing, Ar’alani said, “You sound as though you intend to do something foolish.”

 _“You might say that,”_ He supposed. _“Can the_ Steadfast _run interference?”_

Snappish, she retorted, “You understand what you are asking me to do?” Ivant’s request would put her between a confirmed enemy Commander with his warped mockery of Chiss warriors and a Grysk capital ship that could have even more Chiss with inside knowledge of their ships, their tactics, everything. If the _Compass_ wasn’t brought under control within minutes of Ar’alani turning her back on it, their enemy would know victory.

“ _I know it’s a risk,”_ Eli agreed. _“But I need a guarantee that our enemies cannot escape. There is security footage that cannot fall into enemy hands. External comms should still be down, but there’s no way to confirm at this point without retaking the bridge. Thrawn will come through with his half of the plan,”_ He said confidently. _“We will disable the_ Compass _by any means necessary.”_

Growling out a sigh, Ar’alani turned to her bridge crew. “Helm, take us in,” She demanded of them before speaking to Ivant once more. “If the _Compass_ rams my ship, it will be your head, Eli’van’to.”

 _“I accept full responsibility,”_ He confirmed with confidence. He had the presence of mind not to comment that if the _Compass_ got that close, there was little chance any of them were going to make it out of this engagement alive. _“Thank you, Admiral.”_

“Do not make me regret this,” She said, and ended the transmission. A glance at the tactical made her snarl beneath her breath and look to the helm. “Bring us to full speed,” She urged them. “It won’t do us any good if they’re too fast for us to catch.” Then, to the sensor officers, she commanded, “You will report any fluctuations in the _Compass’s_ readings directly to me.”

The officer flushed, untested and timid, but set his jaw and inclined his head. “Yes, admiral.”

-/

She didn’t like this. She looked down at the scene - what she could see of it, anyway - and it only made things worse. Ke’hala was crying. She could hear the girl’s tiny snuffling sobs interspersed with the sound of wet, strained breaths and knew without any shadow of a doubt that it was Khresh, bloodied and propped precariously against one of the monitoring stations. Taking great care to remain quiet, she began loosening the bolts that kept the access register locked in place. 

The bridge was a hub of activity, the Grysk commander standing boldly on the command walkway while meek, out-of-place Chiss carried out orders. Very few of the Chiss here wore CDF uniforms. And even if they did, she swore it felt like a tangible entity sucking the free will from them.

How could they think this was right? They were engaging in open warfare against their own brothers and sisters, slaughtering them openly. Would she and Un’hee be enough to convince them? Vah’nya knew she could kill a Grysk, regardless of their rank. She didn’t care about killing a Grysk. She cared about her people, about making sure this never happened again. About making sure those who thought this was an acceptable practice, a way to make some political statement or another saw that they did not need to enter into the service of an enemy to recognize their full potential.

It was already at hand.

She clenched the bolts in her fist, twisting the final one free. She just needed to move them all to her belt pouch where they wouldn’t make sound and she would be ready when the time came. She could hear the commander snarl over the reports that their forces outside the bridge had been thwarted. She just needed to see the explosive device pressed against the blast doors. 

At this angle, it was nearly impossible. Carefully, she shifted in the metal shaft, doing her best to angle herself away from the slotted vent to avoid enemy detection, especially in the infrared. It was no use.

She pushed herself flat against the bottom of the narrow shaft and listened some more to the crew's off-putting chatter. The _Steadfast_ was changing course, effectively trying to cut them off. They recognized the potential for a multi-faceted attack, and wanted to root out the remaining opposition aboard this ship first. Good.

Cautiously, Vah'nya chanced another glance down through the grate, eyeing the commander from behind. Something nagged at her. She was missing something. 

Navigator Ke'hala wasn't crying anymore. Vah'nya swung her gaze back to Senior Captain Khresh. She couldn't see more of his face than the curve of his chin, tucked against his chest. But she could see his hands. They were redirecting the crying Navigator's face away from her, and she could see his chin move as he said something she couldn't hear.

There came a dull scrape against the bottom of the ventilation shaft. Ke'hala was not the only one who noticed, Vah'nya realized, as it steadily grew louder. The durasteel was too thick to be penetrated by blaster fire or even the concealed knife she knew the commander wore, but the infrastructure of the ductwork had its own disadvantages.

Most pressing of those disadvantages was the quiet snick and rising beep of a magnetic grenade not far from where she was concealed. The tucked her head beneath her arms and drew her legs up beneath her as the grenade blew. Her ears rang, though it wasn’t nearly as loud as the blood pumping furiously in her ears, warning her of danger.

The warning came too little, too late. There was a thump that she felt through the vibrations of her compromised vent shaft. Then, a large hand wrapped around one of her ankles and yanked.

Vah’nya twisted her body, kicking with her other leg, seeking out her assailant. She heard Navigator Ke’hala let out a strangled cry, turning into a sharp gasp when Vah’nya’s boot met the temple of the Chiss that had pulled her from the blown-out section of ductwork. She lurched sideways, back hitting one of the consoles. She didn’t have a blaster, but she did have something else.

She slammed her hand against the nearest enemy’s thigh, digging her fingers into their grayish coveralls and letting herself feel that white-hot fury. It would be excruciating, she knew. But she’d seen the path the current took, following flesh and bone only from the leg down. It wouldn’t be fatal. They cried out in agony, jolting upright before falling to the ground, making several others nearby reach for their blasters as they twitched and screamed. 

It didn’t matter. Vah’nya saw their blows coming with the kind of awareness that, of those among them, only Navigator Ke’hala could fathom. She twisted her torso, ducked, stepped back to miss the assault with a poised grace that left them cursing her. 

Good, she thought, taking the holstered weapon from the belt of the client she’d injured. The Grysk was making their way toward her from the other side of the bridge. She met his dark, beady eyes, raised her pilfered blaster, and fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Victory has a cost.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Victory has a cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did say I was serious about finishing this in time for Chaos Rising if it were feasible.
> 
> ~~Did the chapter count change again? I have no idea what you're talking about.~~

The reinforced blast doors could not muffle the sound of the grenade detonated against them within the enclosed space of the bridge. Thrawn held out his hand, waving his meager forces to stay down. They complied. He watched them exchange concerned looks, saw them peer from their cover. It was crude, and might not shelter them completely, but for their plan to work, they would hold their position and wait to see if their enemy’s arrogance translated into predictability.

“Hold your positions,” He commanded, listening carefully to see what sound followed. Nothing distinguishable followed for a long moment, then muted blaster fire rang out. Another tense moment. Then, from beside him, Un’hee’s head rocketed up unexpectedly.

“The bomb will be triggered,” She said, and her shoulders tensed, but she willed herself to be brave. She inhaled sharply, waiting for it, then nodded as precognition settled in again, “Now.”

Bridger extended his hands in a protective motion, bracing against nothingness. It was always strange to watch the young man use the Force. Unlike Vader, it did not come with the lingering ominous edge to it. Even in their first encounter, when he’d been Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, Thrawn had felt that something was off about the man. Perhaps that had been it. To Ezra, the Force was not something explained with logic. It simply was. And it existed in everything, even a Chiss like himself who was blind to it entirely.

The Jedi grunted under the strain of assisting the explosion’s trajectory. The blast doors were partly shredded, the edges molten hot and smoking. Shrapnel littered the main access corridor and gouges had been carved into the durasteel. A precursory glance told him none of his people had incurred injuries.

The sound of coughing Chiss and the snarl of what was most assuredly a Grysk reached Thrawn’s ears. He rose from his crouch and looked back down at Un’hee. “Stay behind me, Navigator.”

She nodded, facial heat flaring. Her posture indicated she would not disobey him or worse, deviate from his plans further. “Yes, Captain Thrawn.”

“Thank you,” He said, then pitched his voice to address the rest of their troops. “A reminder that our objective is not the same as our enemies,” He looked at the face of each Chiss in turn, able to pick the resolve and fear out in equal measure. Beyond it, he saw the battle-hardened faces of warriors who understood that their duty meant discomfort and sacrifice. They had lost much this day, and could yet lose more. Thrawn did not want that to happen. It was a long shot, but he had seen enough miraculous things in recent history. “Our actions may yet reveal the truth of the true enemy. Our goal is not needless violence, but to contain.”

Satisfied he had the group’s acknowledgement, he brought his blaster up to a defensive position, peered into the smoke left by the detonated bomb, and deferred to his vision in the infrared to guide him in. Hazy figures were visible. The ones closest to the door were mottled with heat zones that indicated injuries from shrapnel in the blast and the bleeding associated with it. At least two were dead or dying. 

The sounds of a scuffle erupted ahead, to Thrawn’s right. He pivoted in place, angling his upper-body toward the action. Their enemies weren’t firing into the chaos without a clear shot, waiting for the smoke to dissipate and the damaged but still functional life-support unit to do its job. 

The enemy commander stood in the clearing smoke atop a console, staring down at something Thrawn couldn’t see. He didn’t need to. He knew with a foreboding certainty that it was Vah’nya. He suspected that she had sustained a mild injury by the first blast which had targeted her specifically, then been blown away by the force of the second, taking into consideration the damage done to the various indicator terminals and stations within sight.

Even before he made the assessment he knew that it would be impossible to reach her in time, irregardless of the multitude of options at his present disposal. Still, he raised his weapon and fired uselessly at the heavily-armored commander, hissing a curse even though he knew it was futile. The commander’s attack had begun, the Grysk bringing themself down with the force of their entire bodyweight. Thrawn had caught the glimmer and known that it held the wickedly sharp, deadly knife not unlike the one Eli had shown him once, so long ago.

In the space between his unfalteringly even breaths, the commander stopped short, body tensing with something like surprise before relaxing back into the more typical closed-off arrogance Thrawn recognized amongst the enemy race. It laughed: a cackling, abrasive mockery of sound, deep and ominous. 

Somewhere in the midst of the damaged bridge consoles, a young voice let out a shrill, deafening scream. “Senior Captain Khresh!” Navigator Ke’hala screamed.

The Grysk turned their attention to her, and in that same motion shoved the Senior Captain off his short blade, sending him toppling him to the floor.

He heard Ezra move to his left and was confident the young man would act to neutralize the threat to their allies in harm’s way without his directive, but Un’hee who cut him off, barrelling in front of the Jedi with a furious snarl. Against orders - he had ordered barely a moment ago to stay in cover - the young Navigator pressed forward, screaming at the enemy. The words she spoke in the Grysk language made the step toward them to face her instead of a quivering Navigator Ke’hala, who Thrawn could now make out scurrying across the floor towards the injured captain, seemingly unharmed. A demand, perhaps?

Un’hee’s nostrils flared. She exhaled and set her jaw, her entire body rising and falling with her breath. Thrawn did not detect fear in her stance, and it was only anger that colored her tone. He looked to Bridger, who dipped his head in acknowledgement. When the Grysk moved, he would pull Un’hee out of their path.

The commander didn’t move, however. They sized her up and laughed heartily, amused by what appeared to be an insignificant threat. In Cheunh, they responded to the words she had spoken in their language, the scrape of their tone warping the Chiss tongue into a mockery of intricate sibillants. “You are not a warrior,” They mocked. “You will die.”

Snarling, Un'hee refuted him. “You are wrong.” 

From the tips of her fingers an ominous whiplash of lightning sprang forth and collided with a console not far from the Grysk’s position. Sparks erupted and the whirr of damaged electronics echoed into the silence that followed. The enemy forces appeared stunned.

Thrawn took advantage of that moment to assert himself into the main confrontation. “As you can see,” He said indicating Un’hee but not looking at her, unwilling to reward her for her blatant disregard for his orders and her safety, “You have no chance of victory.” He cast his gaze around the bridge, his forces levying their weapons confidently while the enemy Chiss forces appeared bewildered and almost concerned. Several remained at consoles near the helm, and Thrawn watched as a starboard salvo targeted the Steadfast, easily buffeted by the larger ship’s canons as it approached. They were still a safe distance away from each other, but the distance was closing rapidly. “Surrender now and you will not be harmed.”

Several of the Grysk-aligned Chiss looked back and forth between each other, as if considering their options. The Grysk wrestled a blaster from their closest ally and turned back to Navigator Ke’hala, who was holding onto a wounded Khresh. “You wanted change,” The Grysk commander reminded their allies. “Your Ascendancy is broken.”

“You are not the change they seek,” Thrawn assured the alien commander, his eyes burning bright in the dimness of the command walk. “We have our own.” Again, he indicated Un’hee. “Again, I urge you to discard your weapons and surrender peacefully.”

The Grysk laughed. “Surrender,” They spoke, but in Meese Calf this time, securing his hold on the blaster, “And I will detonate the explosives attached to the reactor core. If I die, so do all of you.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Vah’nya said as she rose shakily to her feet. Thrawn saw several mottled blaster burns on her arms and against her armored chest plate. “The only one who needs to die today is you,” She said to the commander. “You _are_ their commander, are you not?”

“I am Lifeholder and Deathbringer,” The Grysk said. “I am seeker of conquest. Anyone who survives does so by my hand.”

Vah’nya’s expression changed. “All of you would do well to listen to Captain Thrawn,” She said, inclining her head to Thrawn. Her tone held disappointment. Not in the enemy Grysk, but in those who had chosen to side with them against their own people. “This one is no esteemed commander. He is a mere hireling. A willing slave, the same as all of you.”

Amidst the ensuing chatter, the enemy leader spoke. “You know nothing of the Hegemony,” They spat, anger lining their face. 

Vah’nya’s gaze bore into them, beyond wrinkled skin flaps and into the depths of dark eyes. “You are a seeker of conquest,” She repeated. “You have no rights within the Hegemony until you hold life and bring death. You will not succeed,” She said. “You will remain a slave.”

“I have already succeeded,” The Grysk said. “I hold many lives,” He gestured with an armored hand to the remaining grey-clad Chiss, “ And have brought death to you and your ilk. The Hegemony has seen it. I shall claim my reward.”

“You will not survive long enough to be given your rights among the Hegemony.” She raised her hand. Tucked within her fist was a short but gleaming golden blade. One that she and Eli had paid for in blood. Thrawn recognized it instantly, though the logic didn’t make sense. “I have defeated enemies far superior to you.”

If this Grysk wasn’t the commander, yet they held a commander’s signature weapon… Thrawn reached for his comm as understanding washed over him. “Eli,” Thrawn said, toggling the device without regard for military formalities. His voice was clipped but did not relay panic. “Come in, Eli.”

The Grysk commander was elsewhere aboard this ship. This one was - and had always been - the decoy.

-/

Like Vah’nya and Un’hee knew they had been needed and answered that call, Eli Vanto knew with certainty that his place was with the Ascendancy, helping them in whatever capacity best helped them prosper. At first, he had believed that to be a leadership position - a commander of a warship in Admiral Ar’alani’s fleet, perhaps. Then, when he’d learned about his work, what the Admiral had tasked him with analyzing, his perspective had changed. Perhaps it would be an analytic lead, something more along the lines of his original career path, but on a larger scale than one ship or even a fleet’s worth of supplies.

Now, Eli knew with certainty that his path was an amalgamation of all those things. It was why he had made the choices he had today, and in all of the days leading up to it. He had a plan. A long term, curated and heavily revised plan, one that he’d been working on for years now. He had never been patient - not patient enough, at least - when it came to these sorts of things, but he didn’t force it, even if he knew the end game. Thrawn had been the one to really reinforce that leadership was as much about providing the tools and letting the subordinates come to the right conclusions as it was giving orders and taking command.

Sometimes it was how one came to the conclusions they did that would make the difference. Eli knew the conclusions they would make at the end of all this, so long as he came through on his end of the plan. That meant he and the team he’d sent to secure the engines and reactors needed to bring the ship up to full readiness under Thrawn’s command.

The enemy had wrestled back control of some of the weapons systems, employing the use of skilled minds with little aptitude for politics or those so deeply ingrained in Chiss familial hierarchies that there was little alternative but to serve their family’s misguided cause. He hoped some of them could be brought around, would see reason and maybe even try to make amends. It wouldn't change their status, wouldn't make them any less than an accessory to slaughter, but it might help them weed this problem out entirely.

He opened the hatch to the engine room with his handprint, receiving a more complete report from the lead than what had been possible via comm. The ports and terminals that correlated to the hyperdrive and reactor core had all been stripped and reassembled, the consoles not entirely sealed in the event that a more manual override became necessary. Blinking lights in both the primary colors and green held clues as to the status of each main ship component’s system status. 

“The enemy has created an external loop with the primary weapons systems, sir,” The tech informed him urgently. Chiss ships had three sets of weapons: Breacher missiles, plasma spheres, and turbolasers. “We are not able to bring up the turbolasers, and the sensors - which we can see, but not do a damn thing about,” He scoffed, frustratedly running a hand through his hair, “Indicate that they’re firing salvos at the _Steadfast._ ”

“The salvos should stop once Captain Thrawn’s team takes control of the bridge,” Ivant said to his subordinate’s relief. “You need not worry, Lieutenant Commander Phennor,” He continued, noticing the blinking notifications on a console that monitored the communications between the engine room and the bridge. “Looks like they’ve already arrived.”

“Captain, Lieutenant Commander,” Another tech called out from across the room, drawing their attention to a console that had been hastily pieced together with materials brought with them from the _Steadfast_ and wired by hand into the renegade _Compass’s_ systems in a more secure but incomplete bypass of their own. “Bridge sensors are indicating two explosions. The second compromised the entrypoint.”

“Good,” The captain said, reassuring them. “That’s according to the plan. Can you open a line into the bridge’s comm system?”

The lieutenant overseeing the console shook her head. “No good, sir. They’re still actively locking us out-” She inhaled sharply. “Wait. Sensors are picking up a high concentration of electricity, but… it’s not related to the explosion. How-”

“That’s within acceptable parameters.” Ivant didn’t have time to explain that particular bombshell, though he knew the cause. 

“Sir!” A more panicked voice near the master engine console cried out. “I’ve been monitoring the nav system since we brought the ship down to essential systems only. They built in a workaround and I had it cracked, but it’s gone.”

“They locked you out of the system?” Ivant pressed.

"They couldn't have locked me out, sir. They didn't even know I was there." This tech was more disgruntled than the rest, gesturing angrily at his console. Behind them the engines whirred loudly, the sound creating a deep rumble against the durasteel walls adjacent to the console.

"I need you to be calm," The human said, his tone holding caution, "And I need you to tell me exactly what that means."

"Whatever that electrical discharge is, it must have killed the sensor drives. _That,_ " The Chiss stressed, "Means that the ship is stuck in the last command sequence entered until we can figure out just how many of the sensor drives need to be replaced to fix the problem." He didn't have to elaborate. Eli could feel the thrumming of the engines and knew the ship was accelerating to reach top speed. "And there are only approximately two thousand of them to consider."

Phennor spoke. "And you can't override it?"

"No."

"Even if we power everything down?" Ivant questioned this time.

"We can't disable the engine drives, even with an emergency override. The drives won't take any input." The tech threw up his hands. "And assuming we identified which ones needed to be replaced - it could be one, or it could be hundreds - we'd never get it done in time. They take fifteen minutes each, assuming you have a full team."

Ivant clenched his fists. Well, that wasn’t good. He looked at the board. "We'd collide with either ship before we even clarify the problem. Can we steer the ship at all?"

"No, sir," The tech grunted gravely. "We could get the hyperdrive up and attempt to jump-"

"But we'd likely destroy the Steadfast to do it," The captain finished, already seeing their reasoning. He turned his back to them, eyeing the engines and considering the layout of the ship. 

He had said it would be his first and last command, he supposed. More importantly, Admiral Ar'alani had been very blunt in her orders not to damage the _Steadfast_. He suspected she hadn't meant this, but he was already calculating angles and trajectories in his mind, thinking of the ship's schematics, ones he had been so hell-bent on memorizing. He was proud of his accomplishments aboard this ship.

But being proud wasn't worth being dead, so logic won out.

"Okay," Ivant said, turning back to them. "I need full navigational readouts for our current path. Do we have that much?"

The nav and engine tech nodded. "Bringing them up now."

"Thank you. Lieutenant Commander-"

A loud screech came from the opposite set of doors to the engine room, the blast doors that had been sealed and disabled being muscled open with brute force. The techs stopped, their heads swiveling toward the sharp, grating sound. 

“Get back,” Ivant demanded of them, his voice taking on that curt, sharpened command tone. It brooked no argument. “Get back right now.”

They fired on the metallic armored being that came through the door. It was too tall to be a Chiss, too thick and stocky. “I’ve never seen a Grysk that big before,” Lieutenant Commander Phennor whispered, loud enough to be heard by Ivant who bore no weapon but watched with patience from nearby.

“That’s a good thing,” Ivant said grimly. Mentally, he swore brutally in Cheunh then Sy Bisti. “Because this one’s the commander.” Reevaluating their quickly deteriorating situation, he raised his comm to his lips." _Compass_ -bridge, acknowledge." Nothing. "Bridge, this is Captain Ivant. Come in."

Static. 

Ivant growled, finally deferring to the Lieutenant Commander. "Keep hailing them," He ordered. "When you get through, tell them to switch to Breachers and get them primed but do not fire."

"Yessir," Came the confirmation. "But what-"

"I have a plan. It's not a good one, but it'll work well enough, taking into consideration recent developments." His gaze never left the Grysk, slowly muscling their way through the once-sealed blast doors, blaster bolts bouncing wildly off their armor. "I need you and the team to take all the explosives you've just deactivated and removed from the reactor core, activate them again, and put them on the interior hangar wall then make for the bridge."

The lieutenant commander stared at him for an extra second they really didn't have. Then, he whirled on his team. "You heard the Captain. Double time."

They were quick, Ivant had to give them that. They'd locked down a great majority of the consoles - not that Eli suspected the Grysk capable of the delicate sabotage without a client at their disposal - and disappeared out the portside exit to the engine room and adjacent systems with seconds to spare before the enemy had made their way through. 

It hissed, making low whistling sounds at it evaluated the control room. There were no explosives or incindiaries in sight. Space-blackened eyes finally landed on Eli.

"What have you done, hireling?" It bellowed in furious, but barely fluent Meese Calf.

Eli drawled his answer with an infuriating lazy confidence that didn't match the hardness of his eyes. The Grysk didn't know humans well enough to understand the contradiction, too focused on his mouth and a smile that was all teeth. "Defeated you."

-/

“It was a forgery,” Vah’nya said, holding up the bloodied blade. “No commander would give one up willingly to someone beneath them.” On the floor, the dead Grysk stared up at them with sightless eyes. She held out her own bloodstained weapon - the weapon Thrawn did not like knowing should be with Eli right now - in one hand, and their newly deceased enemy’s blade in the other. The imposter’s weapon, chipped and dented, was not made of the same unknown metal as the one Vah’nya used. It was no less deadly, sharp though made of a softer alloy, and the injury sustained by Senior Captain Khresh had been no less real for it. She turned to regard Thrawn. “Have you reached Eli?”

“No,” Thrawn answered, the lines of his face drawn tight with tension. “There has been no answer from the engine room or Captain Ivant’s direct comm.”

Held at gunpoint in the corner, one of the client Chiss - so timid, unlike any other Chiss Thrawn had met, even considering his first encounter with a traumatized Un’hee - spoke, the words trembling as they came from her lips. “The comms are jammed from the bridge. It was an order,” She said. “The localized jamming device must not have been destroyed when the bomb detonated.”

Thrawn nodded to his nearest ally. “Get them up, immediately.” He was careful to temper his voice into something silky-smooth, not forged in anger like that of the Grysk. He set his gaze on Khresh, the true commander of the vessel, striding over to him and crouching beside him and Navigator Ke’hala.

Khresh regarded Thrawn sternly, but that had always been his way. “T-the bridge is yours, Admiral,” Khresh said.

“I am a Captain,” Thrawn corrected, not unkindly.

Khresh gasped out a laugh. His lung had no doubt been punctured by the Grysk’s weapon, fake or not. “My mistake,” The senior captain wheezed, eyes fluttering closed and staying shut as he spoke. Ke’hala took care to keep pressure over his wound, her far smaller hands firmly pressed beneath Khresh’s own. “Tell Admiral Ar’alani-”

“You will not be dying today,” Thrawn interrupted. He turned to Vah’nya. “Navigator, if you please.”

“Yes, sir,” Vah’nya said, taking Thrawn’s place as he rose and stepped aside. She placed a single hand over where they were pressing down on the senior captain’s mortal injury. “I can help,” She said to Khresh then met Navigator Ke’hala’s teary gaze that had risen to meet her.

“I want to help,” The young Navigator said. “What can I do?”

“Let me see the wound,” Vah’nya instructed.

They removed their hands and it was an ugly, jagged thing, the knife purposely twisting within the entry wound to do as much damage as it could to the already injured Chiss. “It’s alright if you can’t,” Khresh said in an exhale to Vah'nya. Blood seeped out of his with each breath. He tried to put pressure on it again to keep speaking loud enough to be heard. “That it’s within the realm of possibility-”

Ke’hala looked between them. “What’s possible?” She asked, nose scrunching.

“Eli is far better at this,” Vah’nya admitted, then exhaled and recentered herself. “But I am here now, and so are you,” The Senior Navigator said. “I need you to think about how you feel right now. I know you’re scared, but it’s more than that. You wish to save Senior Captain Khresh, yes?”

The girl nodded vehemently. “I do. I want to help him.”

“Do you think you can?” Vah’nya asked, removing Khresh’s hands from his chest again.

Again, Keh’ala nodded.

Without regard for the tacky darkness smeared across her palms, Vah’nya reached for Ke’hala’s similarly bloodied hands. Carefully she laid them on Khresh’s chest, to either side of the knife wound. “Do you remember the first thing you were taught, when you were recognized as _ozyly-esehembo_?”

“Yes, but-" Every Navigator knew the saying. "The older Navigators-” Her breath hitched on a sob. They were all gone now. She was the only one left. “They said it wasn’t real. It was just to make us feel better.” Vah’nya inclined her head. “Tell it to me,” She instructed.

“‘A Navigator goes willingly to battle,’” Ke’hala whispered, voice tumultuous. “‘S-she is the compass ch-charged with protecting the stars.” She looked up to Vah'nya who smiled encouragingly for her to continue. “Her sight is the path of destiny, and in her hands she cradles the warrior’s heart.’”

“You have a warrior’s heart in your hands,” Vah’nya informed her, placing her hands over Ke’hala’s for emphasis, though she didn’t press down on Khresh’s injuries beneath the girl's fingers. “Look inside yourself. Find your connection to the one you seek to protect. See the broken pathways,” She said, pressing down gently, then letting go as Ke’hala’s eyes fell shut. “And make them whole,” Vah’nya whispered.

It happened slowly, like a trickle of water that preceded a storm. Slow progress gave way to a downpour. Navigator Ke'hala's tiny brows furrowed as she focused, but her hands stayed put. Khresh gasped as the damage to his heart and lungs began to heal from the inside out, until the pathways became whole once more.

Vah'nya returned to a standing position, taking a step back to stand side by side with Thrawn. He inclined his head then regarded the Chiss who had surrendered. Their eyes were wide and bright with various degrees of awe and horror. Several slumped back against the viewport and slid to the floor defeated and ashamed.

"Navigator Un'hee," Thrawn beckoned. The girl approached, as small as she was fierce. He realized as he spoke and her eyes sparked, that she’d seen exactly what he wanted before he began. "To your station."

-/

Eli recognized the inherent risks of fighting the Grysk commander. He’d understood them well the last time he’d had to take action, to insert himself between Vah’nya and the one who had overseen their “treatment” while captive aboard an enemy vessel. This time was a bit different.

There was a lot more at risk to defend here and now.

However, Eli was also in peak form and not a withered husk, beaten and broken as he’d been during those final weeks aboard the unnamed Grysk vessel. His opponent didn’t know him. Hadn’t spent cycles studying him, torturing him. But he liked to think that he just might know them.

The Grysk came at him at full speed. Eli let himself be bodied and held in close range. He needed to get knocked to the ground. It hurt like hell, but trying to twist away would have been more likely to injure him. He slammed his head up, catching the Grysk in the unprotected leathery skin beneath its jaw, uncovered by the faceplate of its strange metal headpiece.

This would hurt, too, but Eli curled his fingers into a fist and reached above his head, trying to hit his enemy in the eyes. A long, skeletal hand wrapped around his back, trying to find purchase, to pull him away. The Grysk couldn’t find the edge where his breastplate ended and his tunic began. They snarled furiously as Eli kept raining blows, finally feeling something give against his bruised knuckles. He’d found the soft tissue that made up the Grysk’s face in the slim section between metal bars that shielded the majority of its face.

It howled, drawing back and slamming both fists into his back, knocking the wind out of him through his armor and sending him careening to his knees. Eli let the momentum carry him, let himself sag against his enemy’s armored leggings gasping for breath, hands dangling loosely forward. He just needed to wait for his moment.

“Your masters are the same,” The Grysk said in Meese Calf, their words off, as if supplementing adjacent words in an attempt to relay their meeting. “They thought they could defeat us. This ship is ours. Our ship is filled with their people. They,” It said, “And you,” It grabbed a fistful of Eli’s hair, _“_ Are _nothing.”_

Grunting, Eli shifted in the Grysk’s grip, but did not dignify his enemy with a comment.

“You will die. I will destroy your warship,” At this, the Grysk smiled a feral, dark-toothed smile, “And your people - your masters’ children who send lightning-storms from fingers and kill Lifeholders and Deathbringers and Chiss hirelings - will die.

Eli scoffed. “You don’t know a damn thing about us,” He said without ceremony, and yanked the commander’s ornate golden blade from the sheath on the outside of the Grysk’s right boot, swinging upward to brutally plunge it into the gap between their abdominal and leg armor.

It probably could be a fatal injury, he thought, letting the Grysk hurl him aside, watching black-brown blood spurt from the wound when they pulled the blade out. Could be. He didn’t assume it was, however. Eli took the opening and ran. In his mind he could see the patterns and shapes of the hallways, stretching out in front of him. Each had its own advantages and setbacks. He had to think like the Grysk. The Grysk would not know the quickest way to the hangar, but it would know that it was close, as well as their best chance of escaping.

If they were wounded, and Eli knew for a fact that they were, a swift escape would be the best choice. They would need medical treatment, and they wouldn’t find what they needed aboard a Chiss vessel, unaided by hyposprays and bacta. Eli couldn’t help but feel a flare of vindictive justice at the thought. Grysk medicine had hurt rather than helped Vah’nya and himself during their time in captivity. They were biologically incompatible, in addition to socially, emotionally, and philosophically at odds.

That wasn’t the point. Killing the Grysk wasn’t the point, though Eli knew that they would have to die. The commander had knowledge of something new about the Chiss: Children who send lightning-storms from fingers. He’d seen what Un’hee was capable of, likely from an office or console that stored footage of the medbay she’d been restrained in, perhaps on some Grysk technology that Eli had not yet seen himself. 

He reached the hangar and eyed the lite-freighter they’d used to come to the _Compass_. The Grysk would not be rejoining their comrades, Chiss, Grysk, or otherwise. But they could, however, have their ship back.

-/

“He’s not with you?” Lieutenant Commander Phennor asked incredulously, then winced, shifting to attention warily when Captain Thrawn set his blazing red gaze upon him. Thrawn was hardly trying to intimidate the young officer. In fact, if one knew Thrawn well, they’d see the worry in his eyes.

“I believe the Captain was to be with you,” Thrawn countered evenly. “I do not understand. Were you not with him in the engine room?”

“Are you not getting our comm calls? We’ve been trying to raise you hard enough to wake the dead.”

“The systems are still down,” The Chiss captain said. “We are working on them, but our primary objective-”

“Is to get the navigation online,” Phennor interrupted, lips twisting uncomfortably as he resisted the urge to indulge in some nervous tic. Thrawn suspected that it was the urge to smooth back his unparted hair. “Sir, I’m sorry to overstep. We already knew about the issue with the nav and engines. We’re not getting them back. Whatever that electrical output was you had happen here, it fried the sensors. At this trajectory, we’re going to take out the _Steadfast_.”

“And the _Steadfast_ will not move out of our way?” Vah’nya asked. “Can’t we-”

“The _Steadfast_ is positioning itself to cover us,” Thrawn said. “If the Grysks aboard their warship realize their objective has failed, they will destroy this ship. If they cannot-” His gaze drifted to a confirming Phennor. “Since they cannot detonate the ship remotely, they will seek to engage with and destroy us as their primary target, lest we have any living Grysks in our custody.”

“Which we don’t,” Ezra said, no longer standing in reserve beside the detonated blast doors. “Except the commander.”

“Except the commander,” Thrawn agreed, though I would hardly say that they’re in our custody. “I take your actions to indicate that Ivant is engaging them?”

“Yessir,” Phennor said, then, “We should have weapons systems online. He wanted us to load breecher missiles and get them primed.”

“And our target?” Thrawn asked.

“He specified not to fire.”

That, Thrawn considered carefully. Eli had a plan, but clearly Lieutenant Commander Phennor didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle. If there was no target, Eli didn’t want the missiles fired without a specific condition being met. But Phennor didn’t say that there was no target. He’d said that he’d been told specifically not to fire.

“He had you placing detonators,” Thrawn said. “Didn’t he?”

“Uh, yes,” Phennor said awkwardly. “All the ones we removed from the engine core. He had us put them on-”

“The exterior walls of the hangar, between the hangar and the engine systems.”

“Sir, how’d you know that?”

“I know what Captain Ivant’s plan is,” He said, then turned to his team. “Do we have comms?”

“Comms should be up… _now!_ ”

“Excellent.” Thrawn keyed the small device in his hand, turning away from the conglomerate of Navigators and soldiers. “Captain, are you there?”

Static followed, then, _“I’m here, Thrawn. You pick apart my plan yet?”_

“It’s rather brilliant,” Thrawn said. “I admit I haven’t had time to run the math.”

_“It’ll hold. We’ll tilt portside, so I’d suggest you fire off a starboard salvo once you’re clear of the Steadfast, weapons systems should still respond.”_

“The team hasn’t given me a remote,” Thrawn said. “I assume they were unaware of this development?”

 _“I was a bit busy trying to get them clear of the Grysk Commander.”_ He huffed quietly on the other end. _“But yes.”_

“How are you detonating the bombs, Eli.” Thrawn demanded, voice stern. “You will never get clear of the blast zone in time.”

_“My job ends once I make sure that Grysk gets aboard that ship. I need to be certain its trajectory is within acceptable limits. My team should be able to get the blast doors closed behind me once I’m in motion. Can’t guarantee it’ll be enough, depending on the explosion-”_

“Eli.”

 _“Don’t you ‘Eli’ me,”_ He said, exasperated but with the slightest hint of fondness. _“It’ll be fine, just get your people ready. Is Ezra nearby?”_

Thrawn cast a glance over his shoulder, but the Jedi was already approaching. He held out the device. “Captain Ivant,” The Jedi acknowledged.

 _“Bridger,”_ Eli said, and this time there was no inflection of affection, only cool, business-like calm. _“Do you still have the controller for the vessel?_ ”

Ezra swallowed, dipped his head, and reached into his pocket. Thrawn watched him carefully, though he ordered anyone and everyone to strap in, and for consoles to be brought up to full ready status as much as the impaired ship would allow. “I do.”

 _“Good,”_ Ivant said. _“On my command.”_

-/

The _Steadfast_ had at least five sensor officers on duty at any given time. At present, there were eight and at least five more consulting on the They were in position now, for better or worse. They'd be able to deflect most if not every blow intended for the newly reclaimed capital ship but if their capital ship rammed into their portside, they would be crippled if not entirely destroyed. current conditions reported on the board. In the midst of that very disquieting discussion, Thrawn had commed from the helm of the _Compass_ , sounding both cool and collected, stating that the situation was under control. It hadn't done anything to quell the very nervous team.

It hadn't done anything to calm Admiral Ar'alani, either.

"Something is wrong," Commander Faro whispered in her accented Cheunh.

Ar'alani resisted the urge to snap at her human subordinate, but it was a close thing. Instead, she turned to Faro, eyeing her carefully "What do you think it is?"

"He's too tense. He's never tense on the bridge. Grave, sure; Hell, I've seen him furious. This isn't any of that."

"There is a point where duty must win over our desires, Commander," Ar'alani said.

"With respect, Ma'am, I'm pretty sure Thrawn knows that."

The Admiral inclined her head. "As you say," She agreed. "He will always choose duty over his own motivations. But what of trust?"

"I know he trusts Eli-Captain Ivant," She corrected, mindful of their surroundings and the protocol demanded of it. "Implicitly."

Again, the admiral agreed with her. "Yes. However, you inferred something was wrong. It is not. Thrawn is being challenged by someone who can match his wit in their own way, leaving him to put the pieces together for a change." Ar'alani watched as her commander tried - and failed - to hide her amusement. "It is rather poetic, don't you think?"

"Admiral!" One of Ar'alani's senior officers drew her attention back to the display.

"I see it," She said, and turned to the portside viewports, rising from her command chair. "Strap in," She instructed them, watching as officers returned to their own consoles and began buckling their restraints. Faro remained beside her, though one step behind. A bold choice, but she wouldn't reprimand the other woman for it. 

"Admiral, it's not moving right," Another officer commented, her voice thin with concern.

Ar'alani considered it. "The _Compass_ has engaged its tractor beam."

"To keep the enemy from escaping?" Tanik asked meekly, tucked away in one of the corners of her bridge, still held at blaster-point.

She smiled a cruel grin. "No," She said, voice cold, but curled with satisfaction. "To get them into position." She turned to the weapons officer. "Make sure all systems are primed, then launch plasma spheres. The enemy will run. _We_ will not allow it."

"And the _Compass_ , Ma'am?"

"Captain Ivant swore to me the _Compass_ would not ram my ship."

No one had the gall to question her, but she could feel their hysteria. It was risky, perhaps, but it couldn't be helped. Besides, there were too many variables for calculating the odds to be accurate, much less comforting. 

And besides, it was too late.

A pinprick of white erupted from the tiny speck that had been a small freighter attempting to leave the _Compass's_ hangar.

The explosion expanded, then seemed to fall short as the interior of the hangar was blown outward into the vacuum of space. It was soundless, the answering detonations blowing more and more of the ship away, lines of heat expanding while the ship began to swing sideways, its long hull angling away at a diagonal with what must have been a horrific, grating wail. 

"They're leaving cover," Faro commented, voice controlled.

"Plasma spheres," Admiral Ar'alani insisted again.

"Plasma spheres away," Came the confirmation from the helm.

"What is the move here?" Faro asked Ar'alani. "It looks like the ship is coming apart.

"Starboard lasers," Ar'alani demanded, then more quietly, "Breecher missiles in the tubes were detonated in the blast. The acid will decay the power lines to the engines."

"Temporarily disabling the ship?"

Ar'alani scoffed. "There is nothing temporary about it. We will have to breach the hull in a stable location to rescue the survivors, and destroy the vessel before we depart."

"It's that bad?"

"As you said, it looks like the ship is coming apart," Ar'alani repeated. "Ivant's plan was to both incapacitate the vessel and alter its trajectory. He has succeeded." Her eyes remained on the smoking, hull and the debris that now hung between them as the vessel trailed away without speed. It fired lasers intermittently, but it was clear that the ship was failing. "And now, we must clean up their mess." Ar'alani turned back to the bridge. "What is the enemy's shield-"

An answering bloom came from the enemy warship, but it was brighter. The waves emitted by the blast were enough to rattle the slightly smaller _Steadfast_ , while there was yet again no sound, Ar'alani felt the loss keenly.

"Admiral, why-"

The Admiral turned to Tanik, already having made the connection. "How many Chiss were aboard that vessel?" She demanded roughly.

"What? A-admiral, I don't know! They promised me Khresh, I-I didn't want-"

"It does not matter what you wanted," Admiral Ar'alani said, resisting the urge to gather him up by the collar and shake him. "Your ignorance does not equate to innocence." She turned her back to the bridge and its silenced crew. "Scan for lifesigns." The battle was over. The Grysk's statement, their utter disregard for the lives of any - ally, slave, even their own - sentient had been made perfectly clear. "And prepare the survey teams for deployment.” Her voice was not quite a growl, her tone edged in ice. She cast a glance at the sensor board and subsequent display. There were no signs of reactor leaks, and the life support systems seemed to be holding. Hardly a victory. “The _Compass_ can wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The path forward.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Time: The path forward.

Though the battle had ended, activity did not cease. The reclaimed bridge of the _Compass_ was even busier in the aftermath. Unsure as to how much of the ship would be safe to traverse, and with as many blast doors closed as possible to prevent anything - but more importantly, anyone - from being sucked out into the void, there was little they could do short of gathering information, then improvising with what they had.

Un'hee had much to give, though. It was far easier to be concerned about those she could help than those she couldn't. She refused to think about what was going on outside, about how the comms had really gone down after most of the ship’s electronics were damaged in the explosions that had all but torn the ship in half or how Ezra had silently stood at Thrawn’s side, and, when it was over, touched his shoulder once, and left with a stony expression on his youthful face. She couldn't do anything about that. There were things she could do here, though. With that in mind, she’d taken it upon herself to march up to each individual crew member, pulling them briefly from their tasks as Thrawn and Vah'nya attempted to adapt standard after-action procedures to their situation. Luckily, the crew had been mostly unharmed, some sported bruises or burns from enemy fire, but those were minor details she could fix without exerting herself completely.

She spotted Navigator Ke'hala sitting on a recovering Khresh's lap, curled up against his chest. The Senior Captain had always been cool and aloof, but he kept a hand on the back of the younger girl's head while she slept. They would be stranded for hours, left to wait while the _Steadfast_ addressed the wreckage of a ship filled with mostly Grysk-aligned Chiss. Nobody commented about the Grysk-aligned part, now. Any loss of life was a tragedy in its own way. Un'hee understood that now, better than she'd ever wanted to.

Two of their crew - the first she'd approached, both had kindly but gravely declined her assistance - guarded the last of their enemies. Their grief and disbelief rolled off of them like stormy seas. It was unpleasant. They had done horrible things, and made horrible choices. The Ascendancy would not forgive or forget it, she knew. 

At the same time, they could not sweep away the ugliness of the fallout and pretend like it didn't happen, or it would only happen again. Maybe even be worse. No, Un’hee was absolutely certain would be even worse.

The majority of Chiss who had been allied with the Grysks wore drab grayish coveralls. It made their skin look sickly, and the baggy clothing made them look gaunt and malnourished. Three more crowded around a woman, two of the three kneeling, and the third barring their arms around the woman’s chest. She trembled, and Vah’nya could see holes. Her entire right side had been splashed with blaster fire. Maybe she’d tangled with Vah’nya? Un’hee tilted her head, studying the woman. Her left leg was pulled up to her chest, but the right was laid out straight, the leg of her coveralls ripped. Un’hee didn’t see any blood.

Stepping between the guards and ignoring their sputtering concerns otherwise, Un’hee approached them. “You’re hurt,” She said softly.

All three of the client Chiss turned to her, the two not actively holding the woman upright moving back in concern. “I’ll be alright, Navigator,” The woman said softly, biting her lip and averting her gaze.

Un’hee drew closer, crouching down, hands outstretched in a gesture of peace. “I can help you,” She said, and looked down at the woman’s leg. Furious red pathways were alight, twisting and turning, burned from the inside out. The girl looked up into the woman’s face, then back down at her wounded leg. “Navigator Vah’nya did this to you.”

“I would have tried to harm her first,” The injured woman reassured her. She looked down at shaking hands, curled in her lap. “I deserve this.”

While maybe she did need the injury to remind her of what she’d forsaken, of the way she’d betrayed her people, Un’hee could see this woman, could see all their enemies for what they were: Unmade. Adrift. They needed someone to reach out. Un’hee was struck by the thought that she and all her sisters needed to be that lifeline.

Settling her weight more fully on her knees and carefully peeling back the woman’s ripped pant leg, Un’hee tried to figure out where it started. She needed to understand, needed to-

“Navigator.” Thrawn’s voice came from above and behind her. It was tense, almost pinched with a warning note to it. He didn’t want her so close to their enemies. He was trying to protect her. And she hadn’t been doing a great job of listening.

“She needs medical treatment,” Un’hee said, not looking back at Thrawn. She knew if she looked back she’d be forced to desist. She’d already disobeyed him so much already. “I can-”

“You might be able to help those blaster wounds,” Vah’nya said. When she’d come to stand beside Thrawn, Un’hee had no idea. “But there is nothing we can do for her leg with the supplies we have here. We’ll be able to treat her aboard the _Steadfast._ I’ll make sure of it.” Vah’nya took a knee beside Un’hee. She wondered if Vah’nya could also feel the pressure of Thrawn’s question like a physical thing. “I know it is painful,” She said to the woman. “Your wounds do not appear to be fatal.”

“I will be fine, Navigator,” The injured woman said.

“Who among you is injured?” Vah’nya asked louder, to the whole group of them, the nearly twenty traitors who had managed to survive. When no pressing answer came, the senior Navigator nodded. “You may heal her as much as it is within your power to do so.” Un’hee reached out but Vah’nya grabbed her hand and waited for her to meet her gaze.”Do _not_ strain yourself. Just because you can do something does not mean that you should.”

Un’hee scoffed. “I won’t. I’ll help her out and go sit with Senior Captain Khresh.”

“And you will not leave the Senior Captain’s side until instructed otherwise.”

“Yes, Captain,” Un’hee said.

“She’s never going to follow that order,” Vah’nya said softly, the two of them leaving the young woman to her self-imposed task.

Thrawn’s eyes were hard. Dryly, he commented, “She has yet to follow a single order I’ve given her today.”

Vah’nya inclined her head. “And she’s responsible for compromising the navigation systems. ...And the ships engines.”

“Do not remind me,” Thrawn said, eyes pulsing just that little bit brighter to indicate he was rather displeased at the girl’s actions. “She also coerced me.”

“I heard,” Vah’nya commented mildly. She sat on a console that no longer functioned properly. Thrawn didn’t admonish her as she suspected he might have normally, but then again, most of the others were scattered in clusters and corners, few sitting at the dead ship’s controls to complete their tasks using what equipment came from their emergency stores. The bridge was mostly empty, the majority of their skeleton crew amassed near the hatch. “That’s what Navigator Mi’yaric suggested. I suspect that the Admiral will have some choice words for her once this situation is sorted out.” She rubbed her arms awkwardly.

“Is that,” Thrawn assessed her. “After you and-” He didn’t say Eli’s name. He hadn’t even mentioned the other captain once Ezra had triggered the remote and the comms had gone down. Still, Vah’nya wasn’t fooled.

“The Ascendancy was willing to let him go. The Grysks were foolish enough to think him a hireling, contracted or ordered to track you down.” She smiled ruefully. “Then I’d had a dream.” She nodded toward Navigator Un’hee, still at the client Chiss’s side. “Un’hee was brave enough to confront you, at least. I hid in the engine compartment until he’d been tagged by the Grysks.” The silence spanned between them. It wasn’t unpleasant. “If you think he’s mad at you or Un'hee," She trailed off and shook her head. "I had had basic training, of course, but I was rusty. How often does a Navigator need to defend themself?”

Thrawn stood close, listening, but not commenting. And really, what was there to say? The Navigators hadn't been trained beyond their abilities. Not in a way that suggested they'd ever see combat. They were children.

But now, they wouldn't always be.

"Anyway," Continued Vah'nya, softer now, "Once I was," She parsed the correct word, "Better, the Admiral lectured me for hours. She'd had time to get herself under control so she didn't yell at me, exactly," She looked up into Thrawn's face. "But we both know she's more frightening than the Families ever could be."

Thrawn nodded. The Navigator wasn't wrong. "You were watched closely."

"I was allowed to stay on your family's estate while Eli recovered. I suspect you and Un'hee may spend some time there as well."

"Of that," Thrawn exhaled, "I have no doubt. Coercion aside, I am undoubtedly guilty of desertion."

"In a way," Vah'nya supposed. "But not without good intent." She shrugged, nonchalant. He was turning from her but she reached out to touch his arm. "You'll get out of it, what with Ke'hala and Un'hee."

"Perhaps," Said Thrawn, almost distractedly. With that, the conversation was over and Vah'nya let him go. They had spent only the briefest of moments speaking to one another, however Thrawn was still acting commander (at the very least until Ar'alani arrived), and thus the other groups monitoring the deteriorating ship's status required his attention and direction.

He didn't get very far. 

There was commotion near the damaged hatch. The men and women stationed there blocked Vah’nya’s view. They stiffened to attention then parted, stepping aside. “Thrawn,” Vah’nya said, pushing off the console to return to her feet.

Emotion passed over him in a cresting wave. She blinked and he went from stoic and reserved to open and honest and worried. Another blink and it was as if nothing had happened at all. She saw him move before he did, saw the way his fists clenched in one telling twitch before he let his hands fall limp at his sides.

Eli’s tunic was ripped, burned and bloodied but not unrecognizably so. The same went for his face, a small burn on his forehead, a weeping scratch just outside his left eye, and the grime that came with battle mottling his dark skin with debris. His chestplate looked to be dented from concussive force, likely the explosion he’d been running from when they had lost contact.

Ezra was holding him upright, Eli’s arm slung around his shoulders as the young Jedi helped him limp onto the bridge. Thrawn had turned to beckon her forward, but Eli caught his wrist, slowly shaking his head. He said something that she couldn’t hear halfway across the bridge, and nodded down to indicate what appeared to be an injury to his foot.

There were limitations, afterall, to what she and her sisters could do. They were not gods. She could heal him, but it was all or nothing. And if she healed broken bones wrong, the damage could be far worse in the long run. They’d learned that the hard way. She looked over at the woman Un’hee still knelt beside. They had learned many things the wrong way.

It was nothing at all like what Vah'nya had pictured in her mind's eye. She had expected something romantic, for there to be at least _some_ exchange of sentiment after all the carrying on Eli had done earlier. He had regained consciousness in the _Steadfast's_ medbay drawling vehemently in his native language, 'If that kriffing bastard thinks I waited this kriffing long for him to say he loves me just to sit here with my thumb up my kriffing ass while he goes and gets himself killed, he’s got another thing coming,' and Vah’nya had watched the recording. She’d seen Thrawn kiss Eli with an urgent sort of desperation no grainy security holo could hide.

This was… quieter. Very carefully, Thrawn dipped his shoulders to position himself beneath Eli’s other arm, the Chiss and Jedi more carrying him than allowing him to walk to the command chair at the center of the bridge itself. Ezra excused himself immediately, and Vah’nya felt his presence as he swept around by Un’hee, checking in on her before lowering himself to the floor at her feet, his back pressed against the console she’d once again sat upon.

“Is he alright?” She asked, never once taking her eyes off the pair of captains. Thrawn’s face was its usual calm mask, but his eyes betrayed him. She couldn’t see Eli’s from this angle, but he appeared to respond to Thrawn’s questions as the older man produced a kerchief from his pocket and began to wipe away the grime from the human’s brow.

“Mostly bumps and bruises, I think.” Ezra commented mildly. “ He didn’t want you or Un’hee to… y’know. One of the walls caught his leg and crushed his foot. He said it was a job for a doctor and bacta.”

“He’s not wrong,” Replied Vah’nya, snorting, “I am not great at setting bones, especially the small, delicate ones.”

Ezra looked up at her seriously. “What you and the other Navigators can do is special, Vah’nya.” His gaze swept across the room, taking in Un’hee and Ke’hala. “It’s not something to take for granted.”

“I agree.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and he covered it briefly. Squeezed her fingers and let go as she pulled away. “Just because we have these powers does not mean they should be used excessively. They are a tool.”

“They are,” Ezra agreed. “They shouldn’t be what defines you,” He thumped his closed fist over his heart. “They’re just one part of a greater whole.”

“You sound like Ivant.”

Wryly, Ezra smiled. “Well, I think he’s got the right idea.”

-/

Admiral Ar’alani stood proudly on the command walk when the order was given. She was not, however, the one who gave the order. To her right, Senior Captain Khresh -still pale, but insisting that he was well enough - delivered the order to fire a full laser salvo at the derelict _Compass_. Together, they watched as the vessel’s failing reactor ignited and the ship erupted into a blinding fireball of light.

“And so the first chapter comes to a close,” Senior Captain Khresh said hoarsely.

“So it does,” Ar’alani agreed, resolute. She turned to Commander Faro, standing a respectful distance away, as if this were something she were not already such an integral part of. Ar’alani would dissuade her of that soon enough. “Commander, make preparations for our journey to Copero. I have been advised that our allies from house Chaf will be meeting us.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Replied Faro. 

“Hold my communications unless they come from the Aristocra itself,” She commander tersely, not waiting for the inevitable confirmation from her bridge commander to take her leave. “Senior Captain, with me. It is time for us to address today's action with the admiralty."

-/

Eli's foot had been treated, Thrawn realized. It was the first thought he'd had upon entering the admiral's office, his gaze drawn immediately to the crutches discarded in the far corner of the room, and the man who remained upright without them, perhaps in stubborn defiance or accelerated recovery, he wasn’t sure. They had been separated when the hull had been breached just outside the bridge by an expert team aboard the _Steadfast_. Thrawn had directed traffic as was a commander's duty, and a fading, injured Eli had been swept away by a team of medics. Whatever treatment he had received, he hid his pain well. Only the barest hints of it remained visible in the lines of his face.

He had meant to ask about the man’s condition, but the words weren’t enough. There was much they needed to discuss, words to be spoken that should not be diminished by decorum. And decorum would be necessary. Ar’alani and Khresh had gone ahead of him, settling into the comfortable seating that surrounded the admiral’s desk. Like the woman itself, the furniture pieces were regal yet functionally minimal, all dark tones and burnished metal. 

The three of them had spent the better part of a shift in conference with the majority of the admiralty, discussing both the issues of Chiss subjugation and the Navigator’s gifts, their newfound barriers and benefits, as well as the immediate impact on both the military and political playing fields. There were several major takeaways, the largest one being that no Grysks with knowledge of the Chiss Navigators’ abilities had escaped, to their knowledge. There was no indication of a long-range transmission ever relaying this information to the greater Hegemony. 

All in all, it was a win for the Ascendancy.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

“You should sit,” Ar’alani said, and at first Thrawn had thought she was speaking to him. He hadn’t moved much further than the doorway. She had, in fact, been addressing Captain Ivant.

“I’m fine here,” He said, unmoving. “If it’s alright by you.”

Ar’alani inclined her head. “Suit yourself.”

The oddity of her casual regard was not lost on him as he took the remaining seat in front of Ar’alani’s desk. Khresh crossed his arms and crossed one leg over the other, watching the admiral intently, no doubt waiting for her to begin. Eli remained behind them.

“There are still several matters we need to address.” Thrawn was hardly surprised. The Admiralty aside, Ar’alani’s ship had suffered a damaging blow that he had caused. He’d felt her furious gaze upon him multiple times during the lengthy discussions with the high admirals. But instead of speaking to him, Ar’alani directed her gaze to Eli once more. “Was your business settled?”

“Yes,” He replied. “The changes were applied retroactively, effective from zero-hundred hours the day I submitted the paperwork.”

Ar’alani nodded gravely. “You’ve lucked out,” And this time, she’d been speaking to Thrawn. “The playing field has changed. As of yesterday at the beginning of your shift, you were tasked with a priority high-risk mission to recover the renegade ship _Compass._ ” She tilted her head. “You, under your mandate from the Ascendancy, were sent with a Navigator to infiltrate the enemy’s defenses and assess the threat to our people.” 

“I abandoned my post,” Thrawn refuted.

Ar’alani jutted her chin toward Eli, eyes alight with fury, wordlessly stating that Thrawn clearly did not know when to remain silent.

Thrawn turned to look at him and froze, gaze landing just below the man’s chin. He wore no uniform, only the solid black dress of non-CDF personnel stationed aboard a warship. Eli said, “You did as commanded, were captured by and later extracted from the enemy’s custody by your mission partner, and ultimately regained command of the warship aided by our combined forces Navigators.”

“Mission partner,” Khresh said, knowingly. “Poetic, isn’t it?”

“The holo-footage from my hangar would certainly be illuminating,” Admiral Ar’alani said flatly, and Thrawn stiffened. “Regretfully, Mitth’raw’nuruodo disabeled the holo-feeds prior to his departure and none was recovered.”

“I-” 

Ar’alani descended upon him like a predator, leaving no room for argument. “If he had defected as some desperate ploy, I would likely have to chain him to my bridge since he thinks himself some kind of trading stock, rather than a member of my senior staff. I would think that he knows better, yes?”

It was a question, and it wasn’t. The only answer was a confirmation that doubled as a promise that it would never happen again. “Yes, Admiral.”

“Good.” She nodded resolutely and let the subject drop. “We are on course for Copero. I am told that your brother and several representatives of house Chaf will be present.”

“Joy,” Khresh commented blithely.

“You,” She said to Thrawn, “Will stay planetside while we,” She indicated herself and Khresh return to Csaplar with our quarry. I believe you and Ivant will have a great deal to discuss regarding your new position before it is finalized.”

“New position?” Thrawn queried. Then, remembering, he shifted in his seat, turning to face Khresh. “You assumed I was an admiral,” He recalled.

“The Senior Captain jumped the gun on that one,” Eli said. “The Chiss don’t tend to promote retroactively unless someone dies.”

“True,” Khresh acknowledged, then explained, “I had assumed Ivant’s plan was already in motion and that you were aware of it. Obviously, you were not.”

Ar’alani picked up on the silent question in Thrawn’s eyes. “Captain-” She inclined her head toward Eli. “Excuse me, _Director_ Ivant has been laying the framework necessary to recruit a politically unbiased admiral to be his military counterpart to the Ascendancy’s Compass Program for several years now.” She said gravely. “A candidate has presented themself.”

“I don’t understand,” Thrawn said, honestly.

“What is there to understand? The list of appropriate candidates was rather small,” She quipped, and it was almost a teasing jibe, if not for the gravity of the situation.

“If this isn’t what you want,” Eli said, earnestly enough, “You don’t have to. I’ll-”

“Eli is incorrect,” Ar’alani admonished with a blazing glare. “You do. He did not sacrifice himself to our enemies so that you could come back and be indecisive. He did so because we need you. He believes that _this_ is how you can best serve our people.”

A warm hand squeezed Thrawn’s shoulder once before letting go. Thrawn looked up at him. “She’s right,” Eli swallowed against the weight of his convictions. He was so steady now. “They need us: You in command, and me helping prepare the next generation of Navigators.”

When no further resistance came, the admiral continued. “You will report to the Admiralty, while Ivant will report to the Council of Families and greater Ascendancy. That should leave you on even ground. The specifics will be determined after the Senior Captain and I conclude our business on Csilla.” This time, Ar’alani gave the barest hint of a smile, tempered by cool grace. “I believe the logistics of this arrangement will prove advantageous, should certain situations be resolved in your favor.”

“We’ll see,” Eli asserted sternly, no doubt catching her veiled double meaning. And yet, when Thrawn met his gaze, he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Epilogue


	39. Epilogue

**Five years later:**

The Navigators giggled to themselves, trying desperately to sit still as they’d been instructed. It was so difficult to follow what the human told them, to close their eyes and concentrate on their breaths. At least, it hadn’t been in the beginning, but Navigator An’ilia, the youngest at age five, had only made it as many minutes as she had years into the exercise before falling asleep. Her breaths came in little snuffles, and it was distracting the rest of them.

“Your thoughts are loud, Navigators,” The Jedi, Ezra’Bridger, said. He, like the Navigators, had only two pieces to his name, but unlike them he wished to be called by only the first one.

“Sorry, Master Jedi!” They chorused quietly, giggles subsiding when one serious, not-glowing blue eye opened and regarded them seriously.

Ezra kept an eye on them until they all settled back into their cross-legged poses, then let himself sink back into the Force. He reached out, beyond the walls of the meditation chamber built into the teaching quarters of the ship, feeling the currents of the cosmos like a physical thing. The ship was so bright with the Force, full of brilliant little lights learning to become something more. He had never known there could be this many Force sensitives. 

Of course, none of them were, or would ever be Jedi, but it was soothing to be around others who saw the galaxy in the same spectrum as he did. He checked carefully to make sure the rest of the Navigators - five girls and one boy - were doing as they were told, and discovered two more of them had also put themselves to sleep, adrift on their own inner calm. That was normal. He’d been the same way when he started out, and he’d been more than twice some of their ages. 

When he emerged from his meditative state, nearly half an hour later, all the children were asleep, curled up in a semi-circle around him, their tranquil minds reaching out for him in a way that spoke of progress. Before, he’d only been able to feel Un’hee and Vah’nya reach out. They were never entirely able to feel him reaching back, but their strength in the Force - their openness and receptiveness to it - seemed to grow every day.

“Another successful session,” A cool voice quipped from the doorway to the chamber. He hadn’t heard it open.

Ezra turned toward the owner of that voice with a dramatic eye roll. “I swear he tells me to meditate with them to put them down for the night, not actually to teach them anything.”

Thrawn didn’t dignify him with a response, instead stepping back to allow the caretakers - stewards who catered to the youngest Navigators - to collect the dozing children and prepare them for the coming rest cycle. They stepped past him with courteous nods and polite greetings. 

"Admiral," The lead caretaker acknowledged. She looked upon the scene with muted dismay. "It's earlier than usual."

"It was a busy day," Thrawn supposed. "Deputy Director Vah'nya allowed them on the bridge earlier in the shift. I believe it was their first time."

"Ah," The caretaker smiled. She had once been a Navigator. That would certainly explain their bounding energy and quick crash that came after it crested. "It is an unforgettable experience," She recalled fondly and proceeded to help her subordinates with the task of wrangling the children - ushering the eldest while carrying the tinier younglings - leaving the Jedi and the Admiral to their business.

They fell into step quietly. After all this time, they did not need the casual pleasantries to fill the space between them. "We are in orbit over a moon of Sarvechi," Thrawn said, when several minutes had gone by. He spoke softly, in a way that demanded he be listened to, tilting his head to better regard Ezra. "The locals reported several instances of vandalism," Reported Thrawn.

"I thought we hunted Grysks."

"We do, within reason," Thrawn replied dryly. “There are more threats to the Ascendancy than just the Grysks.”

Ezra knew that. Thrawn still wasn't fantastic at dealing with his sarcasm, even if Ezra was speaking in Thrawn's language. Or maybe, Ezra thought, it was a tactic to prevent him from carrying on. Either way, he continued, "So why are we going after vandals?"

"Not every mission is glamorous, as no doubt you understand," Thrawn rebuked. Still, he produced a datapad and handed it to Ezra. "See for yourself."

Ezra nearly dropped it in his shock. He gripped the device even tighter, then zoomed in on the accused vandalism. It was familiar to them both, for different reasons.

"There are others. Feel free to sift through them," Thrawn invited, and Ezra tapped the screen to sort through the gallery.

"Are they all in the same place?"

"They are not. The first image is the most recent. It was captured roughly three hours ago. Given the time on the surface-" Obviously earlier than it was in the cycle aboard Thrawn's flagship, the _Intrepid_ , which had already transitioned into the night cycle, "And that the paint was not entirely dry when it was discovered, I suspect this was painted around noon local time."

"What time is it there, now?"

"Afternoon. One cycle is roughly thirty two hours." Thrawn considered him almost expectantly.

Ezra found he didn't have the words. Each image was different. Some were on stones or even spindly trees, others, like the first, marked the side of a building, crafted atop durasteel or cobblestone. A typical Chiss wouldn't have seen a pattern. To the casual observer the images were all different. Some were violent oranges and reds, depicting a firebird or some rounded symbol. Others were green and black and brown, like eyes, with a single aurebesh character. Others depicted animals. He paused on a rather depiction of a loth cat beside a loth wolf. Both were snowy white among golden-yellow grass. They had been painted, respectively, with blue and gold eyes.

"Her style has shifted," Thrawn said. "She paints more realistically, though some-" He scrolled to a dramatic image of a purrgil eating what was clearly a star destroyer. 

"Ah," Ezra said. "How far back do these go?" He asked. "And how did they get to you?"

Thrawn didn't ask for his datapad back. They continued walking. He held the door to his office open for the younger man, lest the hyper focused Jedi walk into it on accident. Ezra made himself comfortable in his usual seat, a chair that was both deep and wide enough to meditate comfortably in. The room was currently set to display holos of the artwork Ezra had been scrolling through, which finally convinced him to set the device in his hands aside.

"To answer your questions," Thrawn stood before an older image - the pesky starbird that had mocked him on Lothal, an indicator of his own failings as well as the Empire's - but Ezra did not feel any prickling feelings of anger or shame. Thrawn was calm. "The older images do not have dates. They were discovered long after the fact. Ronan-" Ezra groaned, because of course it was Ronan, "Sent them to Eli as a joke."

"Why would Eli get art sent to him as a joke?"

Thrawn's eyes narrowed. "You are intelligent enough to make an inference."

"Ha, ha," Ezra deadpanned. "I'm being serious."

"Ronan was being ironic. It is hardly a secret that art is of interest to me." Or that Thrawn was extremely interested in Eli.

"He was so ironic that he was actually helpful?" Ezra asked doubtfully.

"According to my brother," Thrawn said, flatly, "That is why Formbi keeps him around."

"That's Thrass's take on why he hasn’t murdered Formbi yet, too," Ezra supplied helpfully. Then, sobering, he met Thrawn's fathomless gaze. "So, you think Sabine is down there," He said.

"I am quite certain she is." 

Ezra nodded. "Is that-" He swallowed, looked away. A Jedi, yes. But always young at heart, so cognizant of what might be misconstrued as abandonment. “Okay,” He said. “I should probably-”

"Ezra," Thrawn said, in that infinitely rare way he saved for wary, over-taxed or terrified Navigators or up and coming commanders who could not separate their performance from an overall loss, “We are not dropping you off and leaving,” He continued. “The ship needs minor repairs from our last battle, and it will take time to refuel and resupply. We have time.”

“You’re coming with me?” He asked. Thrawn knew it for what it was. Will you, he was asking. It was a complicated situation. They were enemies. Sabine would want blood, she wouldn’t understand what Ezra had been given time and space to learn. She would never forgive him, and Ezra respected that.

“I had my aide secure reservations at a hotel downtown, not far from Miss Wren’s most recent tag. I would not recommend she get much closer to Csilla than Sarvechi.” His expression was understanding, and his tone retained its usual polite smoothness. “At the very least, she has come a long way looking for you. It would be impolite not to meet her.” And yet, despite his typical cordiality, Ezra could sense emotion there. He knew now that beneath that seemingly impenetrable mask Thrawn felt things just as much as anyone else did - just, in his own way. “And,” He added, “Eli and I agreed that it was… important to see you off, when you wish to go.”

‘When,’ Thrawn had said. Not ‘if.’ The Chiss was hardly sentimental, but he did have friends and he honored those rare relationships.

“Thank you,” Ezra said, and hoped Thrawn knew just how much he meant it. 

-/

It would have been foolish for Thrawn himself to look for the Mandalorian artist. Ezra had used the word dangerous and Thrawn had bristled, eyes brightening to a challenging look of disapproval at the slight, but let the younger man take control of the situation. He had taken Vah’nya - to Thrawn’s discomfort and Eli’s begrudging approval - around the fairly large city of Sirvumk’en. They had been gone for several hours, and Thrawn had initially suspected they would not see either of them for the remainder of the night.

They were adults who could fend for themselves, and such was their prerogative. Besides, it was rare that he and Eli were planetside without meetings or appointments to uphold. They had planned to take advantage of it. 

And that was why they were here, in a dimly lit, open-air restaurant across from their hotel that was soft and muted by walls with intricate acoustic paneling. Sarvechi’s system was one of few where humans were uncommon but not entirely unfamiliar, and in civilian dress - dark shades of blue and black for Thrawn that contrasted the deep maroon and browns worn by Vanto - no one knew who they were. No one knew them to be a CDF admiral and the director of the Ascendancy’s most valuable project, partners on the bridge of their ship as well as in life. They were simply Thrawn and Eli.

Thrawn liked it that way. He liked that he could reach out and touch Eli if he wanted. It was not something he allowed himself often, but it was an option available to him, if he chose. More often than not, Eli touched him. Featherlite, thoughtless touches - a thumb across his knuckles or the squeeze of Eli’s hand on his arm or shoulder - that laid claim without being inherently possessive. Eli was not terribly possessive. It was unnecessary. 

If anyone made a pass at him it was with the intent to acquire power or increase their status. Thrawn was hardly a romantic man. It was his partner, the strange Wild Space human with his charismatic smile, his earnestness and tenacity and easy confidence - both in himself, and his people, and their Navigators - that drew people in. It was a sight to see, and the only thing that ever tended to make him flush like he used to. Thrawn particularly enjoyed intervening in such situations, watching people attempt to figure out the meaning behind the way they stood together, the line of his arm against one of Eli’s shoulders. 

It had never been a secret, they had simply deigned not to tell anyone.

Eli’s fingers were warm against his palm, his hands tapping sinewy flesh. He rose from across the table just as their server returned to refill their wine glasses, excusing himself politely, holding eye contact.

“I believe we’ll need another glass,” Thrawn said casually to the waiter. “Possibly a menu.”

The young server had no sooner darted off to fulfill Thrawn's request when someone else slipped into the chair across from him. 'Being watched,' Eli had said with his fingers. 'Ezra's friend.'

"Greetings, Miss Wren," He said flatly in Basic, unaffected by the blaster she held beneath the table, aimed at his abdomen.

Her forehead wrinkled, but the look of intense malevolence, of hatred made her eyes burn like cinders. "Grand Admiral Thrawn," She seethed.

She was both thinner and taller than he remembered, more woman than girl. He had long since memorized the details of each rebel's file. She was wearing none of her trademark Mandalorian beskar, but instead a popular style of traveling cloak for the region. "It is just Admiral Thrawn now," He corrected. "There is not such a rank within my people's forces."

The waiter returned, hastily rearranging the table settings to account for their new additions. He did not notice the situation occurring beneath the creme-colored table dressing, as Thrawn had planned. In Cheunh, he spoke to Sabine, whose brow furrowed.

"He would like to know if you wish for anything to drink," Thrawn translated calmly. 

"What?" She said, brow furrowing, "No!"

Thrawn nodded to the waiter. "Wine," He said, in his native tongue, then added, conversationally enough, "It has been a long day."

The waiter smiled at her in an apology, likely for the language barrier, and poured her a tasteful helping of wine before docking the bottle in the elegant chiller between them. He excused himself without further incident, likely to retrieve another bottle. Thrawn had no doubts regarding its necessity.

"Your accent is thicker," She said, eyeing the glass of wine distrustfully.

Thrawn picked up his own glass, recently topped off, and sipped. "I do not speak Basic often anymore," He informed her. "As I am certain you noticed in your travels, after a certain point people speak only Sy Bisti or Meese Calf in addition to local tongues, and eventually you will find they only speak my native tongue, Cheunh."

She raised a brow, skeptically.

He indicated her glass. "The wine will not harm you."

She acknowledged that with a distrustful glare, looking him up and down. "You knew I was looking for him." Her voice became sharp as she demanded, "Where is Ezra?"

"Looking for you, I expect," Thrawn answered. He returned his hands to the table and folded them together.

"Right, like you’d just _let_ him-"

Thrawn heard familiar footfalls, felt a hand on his back between his shoulders. "Can't leave you alone for five minutes without someone pointing a blaster at you," Eli drawled in Basic. He raised his eyebrows at the newcomer and slowly took the empty place at the table, mindfully keeping his hands above the table where she could see them.

"That is an exaggeration," Thrawn deadpanned.

He smiled at Thrawn, warmly, relaxed, then turned back to the other human, and his expression went exasperated as he whispered, "Put your blaster away, would ya? We're unarmed."

"Not until he tells me where Ezra is," She said, never looking from Thrawn.

"This,” Thrawn indicated to Eli, “Is the former Rebel, Sabine Wren." Eli nodded, obviously aware of that much. "Sabine Wren, this is my…" He considered Eli. They exchanged several words in the Chiss language, then another language Sabine had heard before but didn't understand.

"I imagine the closest comparable word in Basic is 'spouse,'" Eli decided, ignoring how comically wide the young woman’s eyes went. "My name is Eli'Van'to, but you can call me Ivant." He extended a hand, she eyed and ignored it. Still her gaze burned metaphorical holes into Thrawn. Eli sighed. "Well, this is going to be a fun hour waiting for them."

Sabine's arm shifted, the gun under the table shifting toward Eli. Thrawn caught the way her muscles flexed with the motion. His eyes blazed. "Your quarrel is with me," He reminded her. "Eli means to say that he stepped away to contact your friend."

"Ezra is on his way to meet us, but he's across the city, so you're going to have to wait a while." Eli shrugged. "You could holster the blaster and join us for a meal," He said. “The food is supposed to be very good.”

"I'm not hungry." Neither man exchanged a glance when her stomach rumbled.

“Do you like sweet or spicy foods?” Ivant asked her. “I think Bridger said that Mandalorians liked spicy-” 

Sabine groaned. “Why would Ezra tell you what Mandalorians like? What does it matter?”

“Ezra isn’t our prisoner, Sabine,” Eli said. She frowned at him, finally gazing his way but went right back to watching Thrawn, who had kept his hands on the table, but his gaze sharp, aware of the threat she was. If Eli knew - and if what he said about his relationship to Thrawn was legitimate, he did - he didn’t act like it was anything but a minor disagreement. “Thrawn brought us here to find you,” The human continued to explain. “A… friend of ours started sending us your work, thinking Thrawn might like it and Thrawn knew it was you right away.”

“There are not many artists in the Ascendancy with your particular knowledge of colors,” Thrawn admitted. She raised one eyebrow, seeing how they were playing off each other, but deciding that the Chiss was more dangerous. “Since Chiss are able to see in the infrared, our art relies less on paint and more on heat-sensitive media.”

The young woman leaned forward before she was able to stop herself. They spoke the same language: Art. No one outside the Ascendancy knew much of anything about Chiss art. Thrawn knew the woman well enough from his studies, Eli was sure of it, and had carefully curated his conversation choice. It would work, Eli thought, suppressing a grin with a sip of his wine, and sat back to watch as the young woman slowly but surely began to open up. 

She wasn’t friendly. She asked questions like it was an interrogation and her blaster was still pointed at Thrawn beneath the table, but Thrawn made no further comment about it. Eventually, she holstered her blaster entirely.

“If I shot you-”

“That would be your right,” Thrawn said, while his human counterpart made a strangled sound of disagreement. “I will not apologize for the actions I took. We were on opposite sides of a war.”

“I’d reckon it’s a bit more complicated than that,” Eli amended for him, but didn’t push further when Thrawn sent him a warning glance. One of the Chiss’s long, elegant blue hands wrapped itself around the human’s tawny brown one. He squeezed and didn’t let go, their hands resting on the table, tangled together.

“But you-” They were interrupted by the wild fling of the door, the chimes that indicated entry sharp despite the acoustics. Ezra all but sprinted around tables to get to them. 

“It’s okay, Sabine,” Ezra said, and took the force of her barreling into him.

Vah’nya followed behind him with far more grace, carefully righting any chairs the Jedi nudged out of place in his wake, another cloaked woman behind her. They made a wide circle around the reuniting humans to stand on the opposite side of Thrawn. “I see you’re both okay,” Vah’nya whispered, equal parts concerned and amused.

“We are.” Eli agreed.

“Who is this?” Thrawn asked, the both of them rising to greet the newcomer.

“My name is Ahsoka Tano,” The woman said, lowering her hood.

“Anakin Skywalker’s apprentice,” Thrawn said. Eli’s eyebrows crept skyward.

Ahsoka’s discomfort was mild, but present, her features catching on pain from an unclosed wound. “Yes,” She said. “Once, I was.” Her gaze traveled over them both, calculating. “But I am not a Jedi,” She refuted. “Not like Anakin Skywalker or Ezra Bridger.”

It was Vah’nya who stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on the white-clad woman’s shoulder. “The Navigators are not Jedi, either.” She was steady, confident as she met the serious expressions of both men. “We can trust her,” She said, with a sureness that physical analysis alone could not guarantee.

The Togruta nodded gratefully at the Chiss woman who had just vouched for her. “Vah’nya believes I may be able to assist you,” She looked between them. “I sense a great darkness rising in the Unknown Regions.” As if deciding on something, she continued, “She said that your objective is to bolster the light.”

“It is,” Thrawn said. “We call it Project Compass.” 

He and Eli exchanged a glance, a wordless conversation happening in the space between them. Eli spoke. “Join us,” The human beckoned. “I’ll start from the beginning.”

-/

**Seven years earlier:**

Eli Vanto rapped his knuckles against the hardwood door to the admiral’s interim study as politely as he could muster. Being that there were only three guests in residence at Mitth family’s estate, Ar’alani had nearly an entire wing to herself. The large, grandiose study at the end of the wing had become her base of operations. 

“Enter,” Ar’alani beckoned sharply. She was intensely concentrated on a report in front of her, but would be able to multitask had her guest said anything. He did not, so it was the stiff shuffle of his steps that gave his identity away, and _that_ had captured her attention entirely. She frowned as she took in his appearance. He looked gaunt, though some of the color had returned to his tawny features. “They did not tell me you were up and about,” She said disapprovingly, voice pitched low as though he’d disobeyed some unspoken order. “You could have sent for me.” She didn’t say that she would have come immediately, but she knew that if he asked for her, she would have.

He expected that, though. “All due respect, Ma’am, you don’t need to coddle me.”

“It is hardly coddling,” She refuted, shifting to peer over his shoulder. Vah’nya had not left his side except when forced, but she was nowhere to be seen. “We are in your debt.”

He finished crossing the room, dropping into the chair nearest to her with a grunt. It was too soon for him to be up and about, though neither of them mentioned it. “Sounds more like pity to me,” Said Eli with a grimace, mindful enough not to let his native drawl into the words. His quiet laugh held more self-deprecating platitudes than she’d heard from him in - She shook her head, discouraging that line of thinking. 

They’d had the discussion at Ivant’s bedside, the first time he’d been conscious enough to recall the pertinent details of his situation and stay awake longer than the ninety seconds it took to question said recall. He’d been asked questions about Vah’nya’s ‘condition,’ their treatment, and later, their escape from the enemy. Then, he’d been informed of his promotion and commended for his efforts and resilience.

She pushed aside the datapad entirely and laced her fingers together, elbows against the desktop. In a rare show of informality, she leaned forward, tucking her entwined hands beneath her chin. Some of the staff - including Syndic Mitth’ras’safis - didn’t believe the human understood what his actions had unlocked, what advancement he’d uncovered. Ar’alani knew differently. He did not like the hero worship, the additional attention his actions had earned, even in their small circle. It made him uncomfortable. She’d caught him eyeing the scars that peeked out from Vah’nya’s sleeves. It was not that he did not feel himself deserving so much as it was that he understood the cost of this victory.

“Tell me why you have come here,” She retorted, unwilling to discuss feelings with him. He had already revealed all she needed to see. “Speak, Eli’van’to.”

Eli exhaled slowly, chest aching with the effort of controlling such a motion. “I don’t believe Vah’nya is the only Navigator capable of what I-” He paused, rephrasing, “What _we_ witnessed.”

“I am not willing to let my Navigators be captured or tortured within an inch of their lives,” She refuted. “Recreating the method is out of the question.”

“I’m thinking philosophy over true simulation,” Eli replied. His eyes were cool and dark, yet they seemed to blaze brightly despite the lack of a latent glow. Ar’alani found it intriguing how much more expressive a human’s facial characteristics were, though this one had learned to hide it well. No doubt a byproduct of his continued suffering, she mused darkly. He had not been returned to them in the same condition that he’d left. “We… connected,” He said, moving slightly in place as he tried to redistribute his weight and alleviate some of his pain. “I believe the development she experienced in her Sight was tied to strong emotions.”

Ar’alani considered this a moment. “Most of the Navigators are children. They cling to their caretakers and superiors. They express emotion.”

Reaching up with his left hand, the human winced, unable to continue. Then, he slowly lowered that hand and crossed his right up to smooth down and over his face. She winced, watching him flex the fingers of his left hand against the arm of the chair he sat in, but he seemed to pay the pain little mind. That disturbed her. “Permission to speak freely, Admiral?”

She waved a hand in invitation, before tucking it back beneath her chin.

“I’m an outsider. But I’ve seen a lot of different species, younglings and adults alike. All of them are fundamentally different,” His lip quirked slightly. “Yet most of them are defined by the bonds they forge.”

“A Chiss serves the Ascendancy,” She said firmly. “They serve _all_.” She leaned back and allowed Ivant to see the insult she felt. “A Navigator foregoes all ties to their family in order to serve their people. Their bond to their duty, to their people, goes far deeper than any other.”

“‘A Navigator goes willingly to battle,’” Eli’van’to spoke the familiar words reverently, much to Admiral Ar’alani’s surprise. She knew them well. They had been taught to her by Navigators whose sight had faded before her own. That he knew them was almost unthinkable. At least, it had been, until now. “‘She is the compass charged with protecting the stars. Her sight is the path of destiny, and in her hands-’”

“They are poetic words,” Ar’alani interrupted, before he could continue. “I was the one who taught them to Vah’nya.”

“Where do they come from?” Eli asked with a soft curiosity.

It took the admiral a moment to respond. She had allowed her eyes to close as she mulled over the question. “It is an oral tradition passed on to our children,” She answered. “Those chosen as Navigators walk a difficult path... and yet it is a blessing to be given the gift of Sight, even for a short time.” Silence followed. Ar’alani narrowed her eyes. “You believe them to mean something.”

“Yes,” He nodded as he spoke, but his expression shifted. It became guarded. Admiral Ar’alani found herself stunned to a second-long pause. He was looking at her in a way that she had not been looked at in a very long time. As if she were the one who was not ready.

She quickly squashed down her indignance, though her words held some pressure. “And if I said they are a metaphor?”

He shrugged, though his shoulders were too tense for the motion to have much more than an angry flinch-like effect. “Sure sounds like they’re a metaphor, but I don’t think they are. Not after what I’ve seen. And not after what Vah’nya’s told me.”

She studied him for a long moment. He really did look terrible, like he ought to be lying in bed pumped full of some kind of pain inhibitor to prevent his face from looking even more pinched from all the weight he’d lost. There was something there, though. A quiet resolve to his words, his actions. She almost dared to call it confidence. She had no doubt his self consciousness still existed on some level, but it had diminished significantly. 

Mere confidence would not see this human so calm and collected in her presence, however. This shift was something different. Purpose, perhaps. Ar’alani considered his resolve. 

“‘A Navigator goes willingly to battle,’” He repeated. “‘She is the compass charged with protecting the stars. Her sight is the path of destiny, and in her hands she cradles the warrior’s heart.’” He finished, then raised his eyes from the table and met her glowing red gaze. “It is poetic,” He supposed, a little wry.

“I invited you to speak,” She reminded him tersely. She had no doubt they could go round and round talking in metaphor, but she desired to see the crux of the matter. “ Not to recount our lore. Say what you mean.”

“Mitth'raw'nuruodo sent me to you for a reason," The words were even. He had not asked for further details when she told him that their original mission had been a success. He had not mentioned Mitth'raw'nuruodo since before he had been taken at all. "I intend to see it through." 

"You believe yourself to be the key to unlocking their power?" She couldn't help the disbelieving bark of a laugh. "That is arrogance personified, Captain."

That was not what Vanto intended, and he shook his head hastily to refute it outright, did so once, and stopped himself abruptly. It hadn’t been the wisest course of action. "I'm not the key to unlocking anything,” He insisted. Ar’alani let that go, though she suspected otherwise. “But I know that something inside Vah’nya changed when she did what she did. I think I can help you find the causation behind it and help the Navigators - and the Ascendancy understand how it happens and how to keep it happening.” His lips twisted slightly. Yes, there was that pesky self-consciousness. She admired his conviction, but he would have to settle into the nuances of his changed personality. And, he had not wanted her to coddle him, so she would not. “At least, I want to try.”

Ar’alani inclined her head. “You are so set on resuming your former analyst duties?” She tutted. “I suspect this is more a plot to demote you from a position you do not think you’ve earned.”

“I promise it isn’t,” Eli replied evenly. He crossed his arms, rubbing awkwardly at his chest. If she were a lesser woman, she’d have winced at the scarring that lay beneath the tunic he wore when the collar shifted, revealing the fractal pattern that spread like vines to the base of his neck and across his chest from left to right. His blood had been boiled in the space between seconds, in a void on the precipice of death or life. She could not imagine that kind of pain. “You need someone you can trust to measure Vah’nya’s skills. It just so happens that that’s some of the data I’d require.”

The Chiss looked away, down to the scattered flimsi and datapads she’d been evaluating before he’d knocked. She was no idiot, but she trusted him with numbers far more than she trusted herself. That it was his area of expertise remained uncontested.

“When you are well,” She began, “You will take command of a smaller vessel in my fleet,” She decided. “I will give you Vah’nya and several others. Perhaps active data collection will yield more obvious results, and if not, a teaching vessel is hardly uncommon amidst a larger fleet.” She leaned forward again. “You will have until Mitth’raw’nuruodo returns to give the Admiralty a reason to fund your pet project outside of my budget, or you will be returning to the archives.”

“I can work with that,” He said. “How long do I have?”

Ar’alani’s smile was all teeth. “One can never tell when it comes to Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

-/

Months before, when the first group of Navigators had been cycled through the warship _Compass_ with surprisingly positive results and data that hinted at a potential breakthrough, Vah’nya, Ivant, and Ar’alani had holed themselves up in the Admiral’s office for the better part of a day. They’d received approval for a formal training program that would see the bulk of new Navigators through their initial adjustment phase, and would allow for testing of the current pool of Navigators to determine the average parameters of their abilities. A plan was only a plan if it had a clear goal, and they had finally considered what that goal would look like, what it would need.

_This_ was not lining up with their expectations by a long shot. 

“He is hardly suited to resume command,” Ar’alani determined, challenging her colleagues to counter her statement. They watched from the opposite side of a one way viewing panel as the former Imperial admiral continued to tell as complete a tale as he could manage. “I don’t know how he made it this close to Csilla with the Jedi without more trouble. This is unlike him.”

Beside her, the Syndic of House Mitth tutted. “Regardless of his mental state, Thrawn has always been resourceful,” Thrass allowed. “I still do not know why you didn’t pick him up when you found the remains of his ship. It feels like a waste of time, Admiral.”

The Admiral inclined her head. “Perhaps,” She supposed, “But we wished to be certain he would return of his own volition. I suspect his loss in the Empire impacted him. If things are to progress the way we’ve planned, we need to be sure he is willing to assist.”

“Ah,” The Syndic’s smile became predatory. “And how is our favorite human coping with this?”

From Thrass’s right side, a steely voice drawled, “Well, I’m thrilled he brought us the Jedi, if nothing else. Tells me all isn’t lost if the kid thinks his cause is at least worth considering.” The thick duracrete wall and triple-paned, mirrored transparisteel kept the debriefing agent and Thrawn from hearing their conversation outside the room. “He looks ill.”

“He looks like his faith has been shaken,” Ar’alani corrected, though she too had noticed the weight loss. Whatever was wrong with him physically, they could treat. “That he returned at all is promising,” She said, “But we do not know if he will be able to assimilate. He has always been-”

“An outlier,” Eli suggested at the same time Thrass said, “Chaotic.”

Admiral Ar’alani waved a hand between them both, as if that explained everything. “The committee will want suggestions.”

“I can take Thrawn to Copero to recover,” Thrass offered. “He’ll probably burn down our family home in the first cycle, but I refuse to take him to my residence in the capital.”

Ivant shook his head. “He needs to be doing something. Leaving him with too much time to think is dangerous, we all know that.”

“He needs an objective,” The admiral agreed.

Ivant sighed. “Well,” He said, “The Jedi agreed to assist us on a trial basis. His testimony suggested that he has at least a begrudging respect for Thrawn. I also think he’s too invested - he’ll care if Thrawn breaks down. That’d be useful. Not that Thrawn’s lost what it means to be a Chiss, exactly, but he’s been around humans for almost twenty years now-”

“On the contrary,” Ar’alani offered, “I think he has. He has been too tangled up in the Empire’s politics. He needs to focus on the military aspect of things. A crew assignment would be good for him. It will drive his senior officers mad, but,” Ar’alani had to acknowledge it, “Mitth’raw’nuruodo is still a genius.”

“You’re right,” Ivant had to agree.

“I know,” She commented dryly. It hadn’t been up for debate. They paused to listen as Thrawn explained an incident involving a family heirloom with dangling wooden beads and an incompetent officer. The entire exercise had been a sort of test, but a rather disturbing one at that. Not nearly as disturbing as what the Jedi had revealed during his questioning the night before, however. “That is why both he and the Skywalker will report to you.”

Ivant spun to face her. “Seriously? Shouldn’t he at least reorient himself to CDF procedure under you?”

“Shouldn’t you have realistic expectations?” Thrass mused sarcastically, like it was a comment he’d meant to keep silent. It would have been more effective if Thrass had ever established the precedent of speaking aloud on accident. “He cannot just return the Ascendancy and immediately fulfill the role you need him to fill. He needs some time to adjust if your little project is ever really going to fly.” The Syndic regarded Eli coolly. “My brother is the only potential candidate - present company excluded - who will be willing to yield to the expertise of a human while also blissfully unaffected by the Ascendancy’s politics. His being a liability would suit you in this case.” Thass waved a hand, one of his many rings catching the low lighting. “Hypothetically speaking of course. On one hand, you have time. On the other, the admiralty may never choose to promote him.”

Admiral Ar’alani scoffed. “He will be promoted, I am sure of it.” She looked to Ivant. “You help him, he helps the boy, and the boy will ideally help the Navigators. You get more data for your little project, he gets his act together, and Mitth’raw’nuruodo will not be ruining my ship if he gets bored because he will be on yours.” She allowed herself a smile. “Everyone wins.”

Tapping his feet impatiently, Eli asked, “Forgive me for sounding petulant, but do my personal feelings come into play on this? I understand his reasoning to a point, but it’s another thing entirely to hear him corroborate the kid’s story like he’s talking about an uneventful patrol. He admits that he willfully-”

“This will be a learning experience for you, as well,” Thrass said. “Your anger should also help you keep a professional distance from him. You both need to stand on your own,” He gave Ivant a charming little grin. “Your words, not ours.”

Ivant grunted at him, but otherwise didn’t react. Thrass was right, after all. He and Ar’alani both were. “As you say,” He deferred, willing his voice to trend toward nonchalant, rather than begrudging.

“I miss our earlier meetings,” Thrass reminisced. “You used to flush so brilliantly whenever I so much as mentioned my younger brother.”

“Things are different now,” Ivant replied.

“So they are,” Replied the syndic. He turned away, unwilling to hear the rest of his sibling’s debriefing. “I will return when the Admiral convinces the panel on what to do with him.” He took two steps toward the viewing room’s door before turning back. It looked like he’d wanted to say something else, but he simply regarded his brother through the thickly paned window, sighed and exited.

When they were alone, Ar’alani considered Ivant with an intent stare. “You will need an admiral you can trust in the future,” She reminded him. “This was what you wanted. You yourself indicated him as the best candidate, even though you knew what he had done.”

“I know,” He said and sighed. “ It is. I just can’t bring myself to trust him yet.”

“Certainly not,” Ar’alani agreed. “That would be foolish. He should hardly trust you, either. Even though his intentions were good, he lost his way.” For a moment, her voice went soft, though it remained as regal as it always did. “It will take time and experience to discover if you can earn each other’s trust once more. In the meantime, let him pick up the pieces. See how he treats his former enemy and interacts with the Navigators. For all you know, you may not no longer be compatible.”

“You already know we will be,” Ivant muttered.

“And so do you,” She retorted. She didn’t comment about the human’s pacing in the wide but shallow viewing room, how he used the kinetic energy to displace frazzled nerves. “What do your instincts tell you?”

“That I should listen to my admiral,” He admitted, spinning on his heel to face her. She was a good mentor, open in ways that Thrawn hadn’t been. “We should see if we’re capable of working together still.” Ar’alani hummed. It was as good as receiving the orders to his datapad, signed off with her seal of approval. “Assigning him to Bridger should keep him humble, if nothing else.”

“Is that how you felt, being Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s aide?”

“No,” Said Eli, but maybe that wasn’t entirely the truth. It had been humbling, yes, but it had been so much more than that. It had given him purpose, direction. “But I am not a Chiss.”

The admiral gripped his shoulder for a brief moment, then let go. “You have always been,” She promised him, “In all of the ways that count.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
